I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings
by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: After four horrible months, Sam has his brother back. But Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible message: stop the apocalypse, or the world will end. Sam has no idea what to do next - and then the Trickster shows up... Sam/Girl!Gabriel, Dean/Cas.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

**Notes: **_This was written for the _Sam/Gabriel and Sam&Gabriel mini-bang _over at _sabriel-mini _on livejournal. It was betaed by _theblackrose16 _on LJ. The title comes from a line in the song _Dumb Things _by _Paul Kelly and the Coloured Girls,_ which in my mind is kind of the anthem for this fic. Because season 4 and 5 is all about people doing dumb things because someone has to._

_Also, at 26,000+ words, this is far and away the longest thing I've ever written. What can I say? I love Gabriel, and this story is one I've wanted to write for a long time._

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter One**

* * *

It had been four torturous months, but Sam finally had his brother back: changed, troubled, but still the Dean that Sam remembered.

The problem was that he'd been accompanied by an angel – yeah, an _angel_ – which had made dire pronouncements and burdened them with something that was so out of their league that Sam had no idea even where to begin dealing with it.

Dean was moody and suspicious and unexpectedly hostile, too, and while Sam probably should have expected that, the fact remained that he hadn't.

Sam sighed to himself.

There was so much to work through. Having Dean back did make it all worthwhile, but Sam wished that he had some kind of clue what he was supposed to do next, about any of it.

"Hey there, Sam."

Sam spun around.

There was a woman sitting on Sam's bed who hadn't been there a second ago. She had straight, honey-blonde hair and dark, green-flecked amber eyes, and was watching him with an impish expression.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam demanded, grabbing his gun. "How did you get in here?"

The woman just raised her eyebrows, not in the least intimidated.

"Aw, come on Sam, don't you recognise me?"

She snapped her fingers with a slight smirk, and ripped open the wrapper of the chocolate bar that had just appeared in her lap.

There was only one person Sam had ever met with that particular ability and that infuriating smirk.

"_Trickster!_" Sam snarled.

He hadn't seen the supernatural being since the Mystery Spot, and had only met him – her – once before that, but he would never forget her. After what she'd done to Dean…

"Hey, so you do remember me." The Trickster smiled sunnily at him.

"What do you want?" Sam hissed.

"I want to help." The Trickster munched on her chocolate bar.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, the End of Days is coming, right? Right now, you're seriously outclassed, and it's going to take some serious power on your side if you want to stop the apocalypse. That's why I'm here."

She crumpled the empty chocolate wrapper.

"You," Sam said disbelievingly, "want to help _us_ prevent the apocalypse?"

"_Duh_. Sure, this world isn't perfect, but it's the only one we've got, and it's not like I can get chocolate or cable TV anywhere else. This thing goes forward, I'm going to be all dressed up with no place to go, so it's really in my best interests to help you knuckleheads."

The Trickster proffered a bag of Skittles in Sam's direction.

"Want a Skittle?"

"What? No!" They were discussing the end of the world, and she was offering him _Skittles? _

Like he'd trust anything she gave him, anyway.

"Suit yourself." She shrugged and ate one. "You know, if you and your brother had just learned to let each other go like I said, we wouldn't have this problem. But what's done is done, I guess."

"Wait, you _knew_ this would happen?" Sam asked sharply.

"I know a lot of things," the Trickster told him. "I hang with all the cool people, means I get to hear a lot of interesting things. Plus I'm nosy, and I'm good at sneaking around. No one expects the janitor to be a Norse Trickster god in disguise."

She thought for a second.

"Mind you, they should, because I'm notorious for that sort of thing. But yeah, I knew. Didn't really want to get involved, but I knew. What do you think Mystery Spot was all about, huh?" She waved a finger in Sam's direction admonishingly. "You and your brother and your weird co-dependency thing you've got going. But like I said, not much we can do about the past. All I can do is try and stop you morons from doing anything else stupid."

Sam took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down and think this through.

Something the Trickster had said caught his attention.

"Norse Trickster god? You're Loki?"

She grinned at him.

"I knew you were the smart Winchester. Yup, I'm Loki. Trickster god, lord of fire, and purveyor of chaos. Much better to have me on your side than not, believe me."

Sam didn't like it, _at all_, but he had to admit that Loki had made a reasonable point. If he and Dean were going to help the angels prevent the apocalypse, they could really do with some help.

And Sam had to admit, the Trickster was _powerful_.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked the god.

Loki paused in her Skittle-eating to smirk at him.

Sam had always been enraged by that smirk; all the Trickster had to do was let the corners of his mouth twist up in smug amusement and Sam instantly wanted to kill him. On Loki's current face, however, Sam was dismayed and perturbed to find that the smirk was as alluring as it was maddening.

"You don't," Loki said simply, her eyes glinting. "You're just gonna have to trust me on this one, Sam. Should be an adventure, huh?" Her expression shifted into an amused grin. "Anyway, I'll let you think it through. But do me a favour? Don't mention me to your brother or the kid angel just yet. Feathers is _waaay_ too uptight. Probably try and smite me, or something."

Before Sam could reply, the Trickster snapped her fingers, and Sam was suddenly alone in the motel room.

* * *

Sam thought about Loki's words for the next few days, without mentioning his encounter to Dean.

He still really didn't like the idea of joining forces with the Trickster; he – _she_ was a nasty piece of work, and Sam hadn't forgotten the dull, crushing despair of being forced to watch her come up with new ways of killing Dean every single day.

But on the other hand, the possible destruction of the earth kind of took priority over Sam's issues, and he couldn't help thinking how helpful Loki could be if she genuinely tried to be, and she'd seemed sincere enough.

The reasoning she'd given certainly made sense: the Trickster was all about the good life, and there was nothing good about the possibility of Lucifer bringing the apocalypse.

"So, come to any decisions yet, Sam?"

Sam almost levitated from his seat, and glared across the table at the small blonde watching him innocently.

"What are you doing here?" Sam hissed.

Loki shrugged.

"I was wondering if you've decided whether to accept my help."

She peered at Sam's book.

"Does your brother know you sometimes get distracted by epic poetry when you're supposed to be researching?"

Sam slammed the book shut. Loki smirked.

"I'm having some trouble with the idea of trusting you," Sam said sarcastically, "although I'm sure that comes as a total surprise to you."

"Not really. I can swear an oath, if you like. They're binding for gods, you know." Her mouth curled up at one corner. "Well, if you get the wording right."

"Go away," Sam growled. "If I decide to accept your offer I'll, I don't know, call out or something."

"Suit yourself." Loki stood. "Although, a piece of advice? That demon girlfriend of yours, Ruby? She's a Lucifer groupie hoping to manipulate you into breaking the final seal. She's well on her way to getting what she wants. You might want to cut back on the demon blood before it damns you."

Before Sam could snarl at her to mind her own damn business, Loki vanished.

Sam seethed quietly.

* * *

Two weeks later and Sam was mentally swearing to himself as he left the bar.

Ed Brewer had been the perfect distraction, he had to admit – creepy, kinda reclusive, and slightly obsessed with Jamie. That didn't make Sam any happier that he'd failed to notice the _real _killer.

Dean was out there somewhere at the mercy of a murderous shapeshifter – and generally speaking, shapeshifters weren't real merciful.

"Well hey there, Winchester!"

Sam spun around.

There was a familiar blonde woman standing in the street behind him, munching on a twizzler and grinning at him.

Sam felt a weird mix of exasperation and relief as he made a split-second decision.

He got straight to the point.

"You want to help us, right?"

The Trickster peered at him curiously.

"Sure."

Sam didn't hesitate.

"A shapeshifter's got Dean somewhere, I dunno exactly where, and I don't have time to figure it out. Can you take me to him?"

Loki's eyes lit up with pleasure.

"Sure!" she chirped, and shoving the rest of the twizzler in her mouth, twined one of her hands with Sam's while her free hand made a snapping motion.

There was a dizzying rushing feeling that gave Sam a moment of vertigo, and the next moment Sam and Loki were standing in the middle of someone's house.

Loki let go of Sam's hand and pointed at the nearest door.

"You'll find him downstairs in the basement," she said casually, like it was no big thing.

Sam didn't spare another moment, opening the door cautiously and beginning to creep down the stairs.

"You're welcome, Sam," the Trickster's voice drifted down behind him, sounding both amused and vaguely peeved.

Sam just blinked as he walked into what looked like a giant dungeon, where Dean was strapped to a generator and – _what the fuck?_ – dressed in lederhosen.

Sam wasted no time in crossing the room to untie his brother, and Dean's face lit up in relief.

"Oh, thank God," he told Sam. "Just in the nick of time. That guy was about to Frankenstein me."

Just as well Sam had asked the Trickster for help, then.

Pushing aside the thought of what might have happened if he hadn't, Sam finished untying Dean, and paused to properly survey the ridiculous sight that was his brother.

"Hey there, handsome," he said blandly.

God, it really did look ludicrous.

Dean scowled as he remembered what he was wearing.

"Shut up!" he barked, trying not to look embarrassed.

And hey, not only had Sam been in time to save Dean, he got to mock him for wearing lederhosen. Bonus.

"Let's go," Sam said, kicking down the door.

* * *

It all went basically as expected after that – Sam and Dean confront monster, monster dies, girl is saved, Dean takes girl back to motel room and sexiles Sam because he is a giant dick.

Yeah. Sam wasn't exactly happy about that last one.

Sam scowled and tried to make himself more comfortable on the back seat of the Impala, and pretty much failed.

He let out a frustrated sigh, which was interrupted by the sound of someone rapping on the glass.

He opened his eyes in surprise, just in time to see the Trickster appear out of nowhere, slouched back in the front passenger seat with her feet resting in the driver's seat.

Sam stared: she was wearing baggy denim overalls and a – he squinted in the dim light from the street lights – pink t-shirt decorated with a print of old-fashioned candy in clear plastic twisted wrappers.

It was unexpectedly cute.

"What are you wearing?" he asked blankly.

Loki cheerfully threw a malteaser at him. It bounced off his forehead and rolled down off his chest onto the floor. Dean would kill him.

"Screw you," she said amiably. "Dean sexiling you?"

Sam didn't ask how the heck she knew that. Goddamn god was probably watching them when they didn't know about it.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Thanks for earlier, by the way. If I'd been any later... well, it would have been too late."

Loki smirked at him and dug around the malteasers packet for a handful of candy.

"You're welcome, sasquatch. Glad to be of service."

There was a moment's silence, while Loki chewed noisily and the malteasers packet made rustling noises, and Sam thought about what he wanted to say.

"So, I've been thinking about what you said."

The Trickster didn't need to ask what about. She raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah?"

"And I've been looking at oaths," Sam continued, "and if you really do want to help, well..."

Loki grinned widely and shoved the malteasers into one copious pocket, and wiped her hands off on her pants. She bounced a bit as she sat up and folded her legs underneath her, and Sam had to crush the errant thought that it was adorable.

She was a _Trickster god_, for crying out loud. Having those kind of thoughts about her was _definitely_ a bad idea.

"Okay then," Loki said, her expression falling into something more serious, although the brightness in her eyes remained. "You know how this works?"

"Sort of," Sam replied, not really wanting to admit that the information he'd been able to find on Norse oaths was incomplete.

The Trickster seemed to understand what he wasn't saying. She rolled her eyes.

"All right, kiddo, this is how it works. I'll start off by telling you who I am and what I've done. Then I'll make the conditions of the oath, list off the repercussions should I break any of them, and then we seal it in blood. That sound alright to you?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Sam agreed, starting to feel nervous – _binding oaths_ and _pagan gods_, not a good combination.

He reminded himself that it was the god being bound here, not him.

It did nothing to shift the nervous feeling.

"Better not do this inside the car, though," Sam added loyally. "If I get blood on the upholstery, Dean'll kick my ass."

Loki smirked.

"We'll get a hotel room, then," she promised.

Sam swallowed as the suggestion conjured up fleeting images he instantly banished.

"Okay."

The two of them checked into a room, Sam resolutely ignoring the check-in clerk's wink and thumbs-up behind Loki's back. He was pretty sure she'd seen it, though, because she'd suggestively waggled her eyebrows at him with an amused expression.

No. Just – no.

He followed Loki into the motel room and sat on the floor opposite her when she waved him down.

A snap of the fingers, and the god was holding an ornate dagger that hadn't been there a moment before.

Shit, Sam felt _nervous_.

"So, normally the thing would be to do this at a temple, but there aren't any temples left, and anyway, I'm a _god_, so it doesn't matter so much where we do this. You good to go?"

Sam stared into the Trickster's eyes, unusually-solemn and almost golden as they reflected the light slanting in through the louvers from the street light right outside the window.

"Yeah."

Loki nodded, and sat back on her heels.

"I am Loki the Trickster, Loki the Lyresmith, who is Lord of fire and of chaos," she intoned, holding the dagger loosely in her left hand. "I am Loki of the Aesir, born of the Jotun, who is all things hidden and known, who pricks the pride of gods and men alike and who sees that all receive their just desserts."

Loki's eyes had lit up like lamps, smoky-gold and glowing in the half-light. The sight was weirdly mesmerising.

"I have done both good deeds and evil, brave deeds and cowardly, and many have cursed my name across the ages. But here, now, I make this oath: that I will lend my aid to Sam Winchester and to his brother, in their efforts to prevent the apocalypse; that I will never betray either of them; never let their secrets be known; nor allow the enemy to seize victory over them where my efforts might prevent it; and should I break this oath, let my powers as Trickster God be stripped from me, my followers desert me, and all my secrets be laid bare. But Trickster though I am, my cause is just, and I am true to my word."

The Trickster held out her right hand, and slashed across the open palm without flinching.

Sam took the offered dagger.

"I accept your oath," he said, and awkwardly slashed open his own palm.

Loki slipped her hand into his for a moment, gripping lightly, so that their blood mingled.

Then, with a small sigh, she let go.

With a snap of the fingers, both their injured hands were bandaged.

Sam let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"That's it?"

Loki smirked.

"That's it. What were you expecting? Lightning and rainbows?"

"I don't know." Sam climbed to his feet, and offered her a hand up without thinking. "Something more impressive, I guess."

"Tough luck, Goliath. That was it."

"Right," Sam said. "Uh, I'm going to have to try and think of a way to explain this to Dean."

Loki snorted.

"_That's_ gonna be fun."

Sam scowled, but didn't disagree.

"Well, now we've got that out of the way, I'm going to skedaddle. Tricks to play, people to punish, you know the drill. Oh, and Sam?" She reached up to flick him on the forehead. "Enjoy the room."

With one last, pleased smirk, Loki disappeared with a quiet _snap_.

"Well, I'm not gonna complain," Sam murmured.

A free motel room to himself beat being sexiled to the Impala any day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

The next morning Sam joined Dean for breakfast.

Sam had slept unusually well the night before, and so he sauntered into the diner feeling pretty damn cheerful.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he sat down.

"According to the guy at the front desk, you hooked up last night."

Sam ignored the question.

"I thought you and Ruby had a 'thing?'"

Sam gave him a look.

"_Dean._"

"Hey, I don't care," Dean said. "In fact, I think it's a good thing you were banging someone other than the demon chick."

Sam tried to picture Dean's face if he knew that the woman Sam had entered the motel room with was actually the Trickster. He had to restrain a grin.

"Whatever, Dean."

They ate breakfast in relative silence, while Dean devoted his attention to his food and Sam considered the question of how best to break the news of their new ally to his brother.

"Dean," Sam asked, as casually as possible, "hypothetically, suppose someone, or some _thing_, that was kind of listed in the 'fugly' column wanted to help prevent the apocalypse. What would you think?"

Dean paused and stared at Sam in suspicion.

"There something you want to tell me, Sammy?" he asked pointedly.

"No, nothing, it's just I was thinking, we could_ really_ do with some help on this whole apocalypse thing," Sam said carefully. "And some of the creatures out there are pretty damn powerful, Dean. They could be an asset."

"Dude," Dean replied bluntly, "They're monsters. We hunt monsters. End of story."

Sam sighed.

That didn't bode well – Sam could just imagine how Dean was going to respond once he found out that Sam sort of had an alliance with a pagan god, especially considering _which_ pagan god it was.

Fun times ahead.

* * *

Sam opened up his bag to pull out his laptop, but found himself staring at a pile of empty candy wrappers instead.

No sign of the laptop.

Sam looked around hastily to make sure that Dean was still out of earshot.

He was, so Sam risked a whisper.

"_Loki!_" he hissed under his breath, glaring around angrily in the hope that the pagan god would show up with his computer. "Where the hell is my laptop?_ Loki!_"

Just as Sam was about to burst a blood vessel or something, the Trickster appeared cross-legged on Sam's bed with the laptop in her lap. Sam glared.

Loki handed over the computer with great ceremony, held a finger to her lips, and vanished without a sound.

Sam found that he was grinding his teeth.

He sat down and unfolded the machine, hoping, against his instincts, that the Trickster hadn't messed with it.

He waited with bated breath after logging on, watching for anything unusual.

The first thing he noticed was a new folder on the desktop, labelled 'FOLDER OF AWESOME.' Frowning in slight dread, Sam clicked on it.

It proved to be full of internet bookmarks and downloaded articles relevant to the impending apocalypse, and a heap of stuff on angelic lore.

Sam raised his eyebrows as he noted that several scanned pages saved in the folder were stamped as belonging to a Vatican private collection.

He wasn't sure how Loki had gotten her hands on _those,_ but he was pretty sure that he didn't want to know.

There was a file named _enochian__, and Sam clicked on it out of curiosity.

Dean exited the bathroom a few minutes later to find Sam engrossed.

"Found something already?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Uh, not exactly. I did find something else, though." Sam turned the computer around so that his brother could see the screen.

"What _is_ that?" Dean leaned in closer.

"Enochian," Sam said, trying hard not to sound smug, and failing miserably. "A somewhat obscure language first recorded in the private journals of Dr John Dee and Edward Kelley during the late 16th century, it's supposedly the language in which men can speak to angels. According to some of the more restricted information available online, it can also be used in rituals to affect, or even bind angelic powers."

"Nice." Dean sounded impressed. "And this is what, an Enochian to English dictionary?"

"Uh-huh."

"Where'd you get it?" Dean was scrolling down, looking at the weird glyphs.

"P2P," Sam lied without hesitation.

"Well. This should come in handy." Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Now why don't you look up the case we're actually working on?"

Sam frowned.

"Jerk."

* * *

By Halloween, Sam and Dean were up to their necks in their current case. The idea of Samhain rising was bad enough, _before_ the angels stepped in.

Sam had been – well, okay, to be honest, he'd kind of been a twelve year old girl about the whole thing.

At least, until the angels had mentioned the demon blood, anyway.

But come on, they were _angels_. What part of that wasn't impressive?

Except that angel PR had been really effective, apparently, because real angels? Totally different from the kind, heavenly image people had in their heads. Instead, they were ruthless and merciless, and didn't give a damn about anything besides the big picture, even if people suffered for it. Because they were righteous, then anything they did was also righteous and therefore okay.

_The plan is just. Because it comes from Heaven, that makes it just._

Sam had never met a bigger pair of arrogant sanctimonious assholes in his life. Over a thousand people's lives were at stake, because a couple angels didn't care. It made Sam sick.

He knew that part of what he was feeling was disillusionment; yet another remaining chunk of faith in _something_ in this world had just been crushed, and it had been a big piece, too. But Sam didn't have time to think about that.

If he and Dean failed, then either an entire town would be wiped off the map, or the world would be one step closer to Armageddon.

No pressure.

They could really use some help on this one, but so far Loki hadn't answered Sam once, despite the fact that he'd called for her at _least_ five times already.

Sam was beginning to worry about that, wondering if the god had decided to ditch them after all, or maybe if something about the angels hovering around was causing a problem. Either way, it looked like he and Dean were on their own on this one.

* * *

Oh God, how _dumb_ were they? Sam thought furiously. They'd been right the first time, except that it wasn't just Tracy – it was her _and_ the teacher. _Fuck._

"He was gonna make me the final sacrifice, his idea, but now, that honour goes to him," Tracy explained to her captive audience. "Our master's return? The spellwork's a two-man job, you understand, so for six hundred years I had to deal with that pompous son of a bitch. Planning, preparing, unbelievable."

Sam tried to get up, to move, do _something_, past the incredible pain in his stomach.

He and Dean weren't going to be able to stop the bitch, but they had to – they had to try and do _something_.

Sam pictured Loki in his head, all sparkling, mirthful eyes and annoying smirk, tricky and sly and irrepressible, and willed about as hard as he ever had in his life.

"_Loki Lyresmith, you Trickster bitch_," he whispered as loudly as he dared, ignoring the way Dean's eyes darted over to him. "_If you're ever going to help us, we need you._"

Tracy was still ranting on, pretty much ignoring the two men writhing in agony on the floor.

"You know, back in the day, this was the one day you kept your children inside. Well tonight you'll all see what Halloween _really _is," she gloated.

A sardonically familiar, _extremely welcome_ voice interrupted her.

"Boy, you really do like the sound of your own voice, don't you?"

Tracy whirled in shock, while Sam was flooded with sudden, overwhelming relief.

"I mean, I'm bad enough, sure," the Trickster continued, around the lollipop she was nonchalantly sucking on, "but at least I don't spend all my time _bitching_ about what a hard time I had, '_ooh, my brother is a dick, I'm under-appreciated, life is so hard_.' Suck it _up_ already, bitch."

Through the pain, in spite of himself, or maybe just because he was sure now that things were going to be okay, Sam wanted to laugh at Loki's complaint.

He had to admit, however annoying she could be, she had a certain style.

Tracy threw a hand out, but before she could do more than that Loki snapped her fingers, looking unimpressed, and the chalice of blood vanished.

Tracy sputtered in anger.

"You – you –"

"Oh, shut up," Gabriel sighed, and waved two fingers in a brisk sweeping motion.

The crack of the witch's neck breaking was clearly audible. Tracy slumped to the floor, and with a snap of the fingers both bodies, the blood, everything needed for the ritual, was just gone.

"There we go," Loki declared, dusting he hands off as Sam gasped, suddenly pain-free. God, it was _wonderful._ "Problem dealt with. Ever call me a bitch again, Sam, and you're gonna regret it, you hear me?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed, getting to his feet. "Sorry. And thanks."

The Trickster beamed at him so happily that Sam found himself smiling wearily back.

"You're welcome."

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa!_" Dean shouted.

He was making sort of windmill motions with his arms and glaring at them both like he was hoping someone would drop dead on the spot.

"I hate to break up this meeting of the Mutual Appreciation Society, but _what the fuck, Sam?_ Who the hell is _this?_"

Sam sighed again. This… wasn't how he'd hoped Dean would find out.

"Dean," Sam said reluctantly, "meet Loki."

"Hey there, Winchester."

Loki raised and dropped her eyebrows at him, half-smiling.

"Loki?" Dean repeated, looking suspicious and confused.

"Like the Norse god," Loki explained helpfully, with a patient expression. "I've decided to join the whole 'screw the apocalypse' thing you guys have got going."

"The _Norse god_," Dean echoed, in a voice that meant _what the fuck, Sam?_

Sam remained stoic under Dean's glare. Loki watched them both placidly, and pulled out a Snickers bar from somewhere.

"More seals are being broken every day, Dean," Sam said calmly, trying to be the voice of reason. "We need all the help we can get, and she made a binding oath to help us."

"You made a _deal_ with a pagan _god?_" Dean growled.

He opened his mouth to blast Sam, but Loki stuffed a piece of Snickers bar in it before he could speak.

Dean's expression contorted into bewildered _what the hell?_ and he stared dumbly at the Trickster, his eyebrows gathering together angrily.

"You need to get your hearing checked, bucko," the god said brightly. "If you listened clearly, you would have noticed that while I made an oath, _Sam_ on the other hand offered nothing. _Ergo_, not a deal. _Comprehende?_"

Dean chewed the Snickers furiously and swallowed.

It was actually pretty funny to watch, and Sam felt his lips twitch.

"Why the hell would you volunteer to help?" Dean demanded.

Loki made a '_well_, _duh'_ face at him. Sam found it equal parts insufferable and adorable.

"_Hellooo_," she drew the word out obnoxiously, "in case you haven't noticed, I _live_ on this planet. Lucifer is bad news. Having him around would totally suck the fun out of life. It's a clear-cut case of self-interest, kiddo. This is the only planet that has chocolate, y'know."

Dean's brow furrowed slightly at the comment.

"You're saving the planet for chocolate," he stated dubiously, which made Sam snort.

"_Correct_," Loki confirmed sweetly. "I'm glad we got that sorted out."

Dean sent Sam a _what the fuck is this for real?_ look, and Sam shrugged helplessly.

"She _does_ like candy, Dean," he pointed out.

Dean slowly shook his head.

"So," Loki chirped, "here I am. What are you gonna do with me?"

She did something suggestive with her eyebrows that looked almost obscene.

Dean ran a hand over his mouth, considering.

"Okay, look, I'm not exactly _okay_ with this, but since you're here, what exactly are you planning to do to help?"

The Trickster shrugged.

"I dunno, stage a rescue here, gather info there – there's _no one_ plugged into the godly gossip network like I am, y'know. I figured I'd do what seemed helpful at the time, unless you had any better ideas." She looked dubious. "And considering what I've seen of you so far, I'm guessing you don't."

"_Excuse _me?" Dean bristled.

"Okay, fine, but only because I guess you knuckleheads can't help it."

Sam cleared his throat hastily.

"Anyway, all I'm asking is don't tell your uptight little angel yet, _or_," Loki suddenly levelled a finger in Sam's direction with a stern scowl, "Hotness McDemony, _capice_?" Dean snorted a laugh. "I don't care _how_ much you trust her, or care about her, or think rainbows come out of her ass or something, _I_ don't trust demons no matter what they say, and if you breathe a word to her about me or anything I share with you, I _will_ deal with her as I see fit. Only warning you're gonna get."

"Sounds fair to me," Dean remarked.

Sam huffed out an irritated breath.

Okay, yes, Ruby _was_ a demon, that was true, but why was it so hard to believe that there was some kind of, infinitesimal spark of humanity left in her, and that it was possible she might actually, you know, _want_ to help out the good guys? Nothing she did or Sam said could convince Dean, and now, apparently, _Loki_ was on the anti-Ruby team.

"Fine. Whatever," he agreed unwillingly.

He wasn't happy about it, but really it wasn't that much of a price in the long run for Loki's help.

"Great!" God, the Trickster was insufferably _cheerful_. "Glad we're on the same page. Now if you'll excuse me, Halloween is kind of my personal holiday, so I'd like to get back to collecting enough candy to make me puke and arranging _just desserts_ for all the assholes I can find. Toodles!"

The familiar gesture, and Loki was gone.

Unfortunately, it seemed to shake something loose in Dean's brain, because his eyes widened, and he turned to Sam in renewed shock and fury as things clicked.

"Sam! Did you make some kind of arrangement with the fucking _Trickster?_"

Oh, _fuck_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

**Notes: **_Curse ffnet's hostility towards paragraph spacing! I had to use dividers for every. Single. ONE._

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

The fact was, Sam and Dean were pretty used to seemingly-hopeless situations, but even so: they were currently stuck with a powerless ex-angel that had both hell _and_ Heaven after her, whose Grace had gone missing (probably retrieved by a non-fallen angel), and now the angels were threatening to send Dean back to hell if they didn't hand Anna over.

That was just… _fabulous_.

"Anna," Sam asked helplessly, "do you know of any weapon that works on an angel? To what? Kill them?"

Could angels even die? Did that work for them?

Anna looked apologetic.

"Nothing we could get to… not right now."

Yeah, of course not. Story of their lives.

Sam glanced over at Dean and Ruby.

Ruby was still standing there glaring, like she thought that he and Dean were the dumbest people ever, but Dean… Dean looked like an idea had just hit him upside the head.

"Sam," he said hopefully. "What about your… _friend?_"

For a moment Sam was totally confused. Then he got it.

"Oh, you mean –" He snapped his mouth shut as he remembered that Ruby wasn't supposed to know about the Trickster's help. "Uh, maybe. Can't hurt to ask."

"Right." Dean turned to Ruby. "You need to get out of here."

"_What?_" Ruby looked indignant. "And go where? Out where some demon or angel is going to pounce on me for information?"

"Ruby," Sam spoke before his brother could say something callous, "there might be someone who can help us, but… they really don't like demons, and, they promised that if you're ever around when they show up, well…"

"Goodbye, demon," Dean finished helpfully. Sam sent him a _thanks a lot, jerk _look.

Ruby let out a disgusted huff.

"Fine," she conceded reluctantly. "I guess I can just lie low for a while. But who the hell is this that you're so sure is going to help that you're just sending me away?"

"I can't tell you that," Sam said apologetically.

Ruby narrowed her eyes at him, glaring, but stalked for the door.

Sam and Dean watched carefully as she left, but her leaving didn't seem to disturb anything, and there didn't seem to be anybody waiting for her right outside.

"So," Dean asked, turning to Sam, "how do you get the pain in the ass's attention?"

Sam shot him a look.

"Shut up, Dean. I usually just call her. Or, you know, she just shows up."

"Who are you talking about?" Anna asked curiously.

"Loki," Sam told her, before repeating the god's name firmly. "Loki, could we borrow you for a second?"

There was a moment where they just stood there, waiting, before the Trickster blinked into existence, like, half a foot away from Sam.

He leapt back with a startled noise, heart hammering.

"Hiya, Sam-a-lam," Loki greeted him, sounding positively chipper.

"Oh, my God." Sam felt nothing but pained at the nickname. "_Never_ call me that again."

Loki shrugged like it was no skin off the end of _her_ nose, and looked around.

Sam saw her eyes narrow as they swept over Anna, but Loki didn't pause, like she'd noticed nothing out of the ordinary.

Huh. Why the subterfuge?

The Trickster turned back to him expectantly.

"What's up?"

"Um, this is Anna," Sam introduced, gesturing to the red-haired woman, who was watching Loki with an expression of frowning curiosity. Loki frowned back, and snapped up a lollipop to stick in her mouth. "She used to be an angel."

"_Really_."

Loki's tone was dubious as she scrutinised the ex-angel. Anna stared back.

"Really." Dean entered the conversation. "The problem is, hell wants her so that they can torture her for information, while the angels…"

"Want her for disobeying," Sam finished. "And they're saying that if we don't hand her over, they'll throw Dean back into hell. We were hoping you could help."

The Trickster's face went weirdly expressionless.

"You want me to help you save the former angel from the clutches of her former garrison."

There was a heavy silence. Loki has summed things up perfectly, but Sam had never seen that expression on the Trickster's face before, and he knew instinctively that it wasn't a good thing.

Loki's face was abruptly all smiles.

"Sure! Why not? Angels rejecting the dominant discourse is _clearly_ of the win."

"You've read Hegel?" Sam asked, surprised, and distracted from his feelings of foreboding by the sudden need to know.

Loki sent him a sly smile.

"I've read all _kinds_ of things, Sam," she purred. "Not just a bag of tricks, here, you know."

Sam cleared his throat unnecessarily.

Anna looked amused.

Loki frowned.

"You know, that came out kinda wrong. Still accurate, though."

Dean snickered.

"But you're willing to help?" Sam pressed, because Loki's blank look had been worrying.

The Norse god sent him an unreadable look.

"Said I would, Sam." She turned to Anna, who was still regarding Loki like a strange, alien thing she possibly disapproved of. "Why don't you tell me what your situation is, and I'll see what I can come up with."

* * *

In the middle of the night Dean woke them all up and told them that Uriel had visited him in a dream… and made the mistake of telling Dean that he had Anna's Grace.

Sam rubbed at his eyes, and supposed that this was a good thing, even if he was too tired to feel much about it one way or the other.

Loki, though, clapped her hands together and grinned with delight.

"_Now_ we're cooking with gas!" she crowed with glee, and whirled to face Anna, bouncing on her heels as she did like some kind of human-shaped pogo-stick, practically bursting with how pleased she was with this development.

Sam smiled sleepily as he watched, and rubbed at his eyes again.

God, he needed coffee.

"I can work with this," Loki told Anna happily. "If we can trick them into showing up… make them think the boys are gonna hand you over… then I can break the vial that's got your Grace in it, and you can go from there."

"Sounds like a plan," Dean approved.

Sam made a vague noise of agreement, and Loki sighed, and shoved a cup of coffee into his hands that she hadn't had a second ago.

"Amusing though it is to watch you stumbling around like a giant cuddly zombie, we need your brain engaged, kiddo," Loki told him, although Sam wasn't really listening.

_Coffee. Yay._

He finished the cup, feeling a bit more aware, and blinked around to see Loki staring at him. The other two were watching him as well, in varying degrees of amusement.

"What?"

Loki shook her head, and ignored the question.

"Now…"

* * *

The next morning the four of them got together, and Dean broke the anti-angel sigils.

Then they set the scene and waited for the angels to show.  
Predictably the door blew open, and the angels breezed in with dramatic unnecessary wind effects. For emotionless sons of bitches they sure liked their dramatic entrances.

"Huh, angels," Loki observed, like _hey, would you look at that_, and took a sip of the ridiculously giant cocktail she held in one hand, somehow drinking around the paper umbrella and the strawberry stuck to the rim of the glass.

Castiel gave her the slightest of perplexed looks while Uriel glowered at the pagan god.

Castiel seemed to decide to ignore Loki's presence, like she was probably irrelevant to his purpose here.

"Hello, Anna. It's good to see you," Castiel said, as though this were some sort of cheerful reunion.

Angels were weird, Sam decided. All the evidence bolstered this theory.

Although, Loki was probably weirder. Who the hell sat around drinking _cocktails_ in this situation?

It did fit with everything he'd read about her, though.

"How?" Sam asked, for the angels' benefit. "How did you find us?" He glanced at his brother. "Dean?"

"I'm sorry," Dean said, avoiding everyone's eyes.

Sam made sure to look betrayed.

"Why?" he asked, doing his best to sound hurt.

Loki snorted into her glass.

"Because they offered him a choice," Anna explained for Dean, who was doing a good impression of a guy trying not to show any feelings of shame and not quite managing it. "They either kill me… or kill you. I know how their minds work."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

"You did the best you could. I forgive you," she said softly.

Damn, the girl could act.

"Okay," Anna continued, turning to face Uriel and Castiel. "No more tricks. No more running. I'm ready."

She looked resolute.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, while Loki put down her glass and sat up, as though she wanted to pay proper attention to what was going on.

"No. You're not," Anna said flatly. The gaze she levelled on Castiel was unexpectedly stern. "Not really. You don't know the meaning of the word."

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw Loki make an impressed, _ooh_ face, and draw a '1' in the air with one finger.

He quickly looked away, biting his lip.

"Still, we have a history," Castiel persisted, like he didn't want to kill Anna without clearing the air first. "It's just –"

"Orders are orders," Anna said, a little bitterly. "Just make it quick."

"This is boring," Loki announced out of nowhere. "_Sheep!_"

And just like that the stable was full of sheep.

Sam had to fight himself not to burst out into uncontrollable laughter as the confused angels stared around at the sheep suddenly filling the stable wall-to-wall, making it impossible to even move.

The sheep seemed to be distressed by their sudden materialisation, because they pushed and shoved and tried to make a break for it even though there was nowhere else for them to go.

Sam got to watch the sight of startled angels fighting to keep their balance and trying to push away crowds of sheep as the air filled with worried _baas_, Uriel pushing away angrily at a sheep that had tried to burrow in between his legs.

_Don't laugh. Don't laugh._

It was easy enough for Loki to teleport over to the distracted angel and close a hand around the glass vial swinging from his neck.

The glass cracked, and Loki disappeared from Uriel's side before he could react, as an increasingly bright glow spread from the vial.

"Shut your eyes!" Anna yelled repeatedly. "Shut your eyes! _Shut your eyes!_"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the world flared with brilliant white.

When he opened them again, blinking away the spots in his vision, Anna was gone.

"Well, what are you guys waiting for?" Dean asked jovially. "Go get Anna. Unless, of course, you're scared."

"This isn't over," Uriel said menacingly.

When Sam looked in her direction, Loki was giving Uriel a dark, burning stare that Sam had never seen before, like…

Sam instinctively took a step backwards.

He so did _not_ want to end up getting in the way if Loki decided to try and fry the angel, or something.

As he watched, Uriel turned to the pagan god.

"And you," he sneered, "you'll regret interfering."

"Whatever, bighead boy," Loki said insolently, and vanished from the building.

Without another word, the angels disappeared as well.

Sam stood there for about two seconds before the image of the angels battling sheep flashed across his mind again, and he burst out laughing.

"Sam?" Dean sent him a confused look.

"The sheep," Sam choked out, and Dean's eyes instantly lit up with laughter of his own.

It felt good to laugh.

* * *

One moment Sam was alone: the next he was sharing the room with a Norse god.

"I'm bored," Loki told him. "I don't have anything else to do, so you get to entertain me. _Go_."

She gestured grandly, like a queen giving permission for festivities to begin.

Sam raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"I don't recall anything in our agreement that said I have to entertain you," he pointed out.

"Well, no, you don't _have_ to," Loki conceded. "But on the other hand, boredom usually gives me _ideas._ Is that what you _really_ want?"

The look in her eyes was distinctly devilish.

"You know what? I don't care," Sam said flatly. "Go find something to do yourself."

The Trickster pouted, like Sam was crueller than she'd expected.

Sam ignored her.

He did pay attention when she suddenly brightened, however, and her face split into a wicked grin.

She snapped her fingers with a cackle and disappeared before Sam could fully process just why his head was suddenly cold.

"_LOKI!_"

* * *

Dean returned half an hour later.

He did a double-take as he saw Sam, and burst out laughing.

"Why the hell are you _bald?_" Dean chortled.

"Trickster," Sam said sullenly, by way of explanation. "She's probably done something to you too."

His words didn't wipe the smile off Dean's face like he'd hoped, but a tinge of worry entered the green eyes, so Sam had to be content with that.

"What did you do, dude?" Dean asked him, chuckling.

"She was complaining that she was bored, and I told her to find her own entertainment."

Sam knew he was making what Dean referred to as the 'bitchface,' but he was _entitled,_ damn it. Trickster had made him fucking _bald._

"Looks like she took your advice," Dean said blandly, smirking.

"_Fuck you_, you giant jerk."

"Bitch," Dean returned, looking way too amused by the sight of Bald!Sam in front of him.

"This _isn't funny_," Sam griped, despite the fact that he knew that if it were Dean he'd be laughing his ass off.

There was a feminine giggle, and Sam's head suddenly felt warm.

Reaching up, he discovered that he once again had a full head of hair.

He glared at the returned Trickster. She was wearing the pink shirt and overalls again, which made her look vaguely like a giant preschooler – which, actually, was pretty accurate, as far as mental age went.

"You're cute when you sulk," she informed him, and was gone again.

Sam heard the snigger behind him.

"Screw you, Dean!"

Sam was on the laptop and Dean was watching the battered old TV set in one corner of the hotel room when the god was suddenly present.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

Sam scowled at Loki, perched on his bed.

It always _was_ his bed, and right now Sam felt an irrational grudge that lingered from the baldness thing. Why couldn't she sit on _Dean's_ bed for once?

Dean turned his head.

"Loki," he observed, in vague greeting.

"That's me." She stretched out on her stomach, facing the brothers, leaning on her elbows. "So, I've been thinking about this whole Armageddon thing, and I was wondering: do you guys actually have some sort of _plan_ of how to stop it? Or, you know, any real idea of what's going on out there _at all?_"

She made an exaggeratedly innocent face.

Dean looked at Sam. Sam looked at Dean.

Presumably there was a reason why the pagan god was asking that sort of leading question.

Loki watched them both, her expression the picture of helpfulness.

"Why don't you tell us what you know about what's gonna go down," Dean suggested. That seemed the best thing to do.

The Trickster leaned back on her elbows and gave them a jaded, speculative look.

"_What I know._ Hmm." Loki rolled onto her side and propped her head up on one elbow, looking up at them through her eyelashes with a kind of doubtful calculation. "Okay, let me lay it out for you. Remember, you asked."

The Trickster's expression went serious and blank and unblinking, and for a second she reminded Sam weirdly of Castiel.

Sam shook the impression off. He couldn't think of anyone _less_ like Castiel than the unpredictable pagan god.

Or anyone less like an angel, for that matter.

"You, Dean, were the first Seal, you know that, right? You breaking in Hell was when things started for real. Everything before that was just preparation, but now that the first Seal has been breached it's only a matter of time. Unless, of course, you can prevent the final Seal from breaking," Loki added.

"How?" Sam asked, because Dean's face looked rather drawn.

Loki smirked in a way that wasn't actually amused at all.

"Kill Lilith, and Lucifer walks free," she said simply. "_Prevent_ her death, and we're good."

"_What?_" Dean demanded.

Loki grinned her most devilish, darkest grin.

"You heard me." Her eyes moved to Sam. "Ruby's been using you, honey. She's been getting you to practice overpowering lower demons, telling you everything you wanna hear about what good you're doing, so that when the time comes she can just point you in Lilith's direction and _bam_, it's all over."

"You're lying," Sam snapped.

Loki raised her eyebrows.

"Wish I was, Sam. But the sad truth is that she's on Lucifer's side, always has been. She's a true-blue fanatic, and she'll stop at nothing to set him free. You've kinda gotta admire her dedication."

Loki sat up, and met their eyes seriously.

"And it only gets better from there, boys. Heaven? They _want_ this apocalypse. Because once Lucifer is free, he and Michael can have their big showdown, Michael can kick his sorry rebellious ass, and then they can 'purify' the earth and claim it as their own. But that's not even the worst part. Because guess who the two saps are who're _destined_ to be Lucy and Mikey's Vessels during all this."

Sam's mind blanked as the words sank in.

"No," Dean almost whispered, sounding shaken and appalled. "No, that'll never happen."

"I'm sorry." Loki's expression was unexpectedly sincere and compassionate. "But that's what they're planning. You asked me to lay it all out for you, so… there it is. The full unvarnished truth."

There was a long, devastated silence.

Sam tried to get his head around the fact that… that things were well and truly fucked. He felt like someone had punched him in the chest. Seriously, he knew angels were apparently dicks, but this? This was _way_ beyond dickishness… it was _monstrous_.

How the hell could _angels_ be so horrific? How had things gone so wrong that the, the supposed beacons of _divine power and light_ could be so… callous and corrupt?

Loki watched them both with a look of pity on her face, her green-amber eyes sad and almost golden as they reflected the light from the window.

"Does… does Cas know about this?" Dean asked rigidly.

Loki tipped her head to one side and shrugged.

"Doubt it. He's just one of the grunts, the toy soldiers, you know?"

"Toy soldiers," Dean repeated.

"So, Cas – Cas is…" Sam began.

"Disposable," the Trickster finished helpfully. "He's as much a pawn in this game as you are."

"Great," Dean said savagely. "Just – fucking _brilliant_."

That… pretty much summed it up.

"You know what? I'm going for a beer," Dean added bitterly, grabbing his jacket.

"Dean, dude, it's like three in the afternoon," Sam pointed out; but Dean just slammed the door behind him.

Sam sank into a chair.

There was a deep sigh from behind him.

"Yeah, I know," Loki's voice was loud in the silence. "It blows."

"Your eloquence is overwhelming," Sam commented bleakly.

There was another sigh, and the next moment a small hand ruffled Sam's hair. He nearly levitated in shock.

"Easy there, kiddo," Loki said gently. "Hey, it sucks, I know. Believe me, I _know._ But there's hope, 'kay?"

Sam turned to look at her.

"You're being weirdly sympathetic for a jerk of a Trickster," he observed.

Loki's face went still.

"Yeah, well, believe it or not, I do actually have a heart somewhere."

Sam exhaled slowly and ran a hand over his face.

"Thanks," he said simply.

Loki's eyes flickered.

"You're welcome, gigantor."

There was a quiet fingersnap, and Sam was left alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Neither Sam nor Dean talked about Loki's shattering revelations over the next few weeks. They were just so fucking _huge_, that Sam felt helpless and sick at the thought of them.

He did think about them, though.

He supposed that it was possible that Loki was lying – because, _Trickster_ – and God, he wanted to believe that. But he'd seen her face, as she shared the horrible truth about the apocalypse and the angels' role in it, and he couldn't quite bring himself to. Loki _regretted_ what was going on, that much was obvious; she'd been genuinely pained at how devastated Sam and Dean were by what she had to tell them.

He did wonder, though, if maybe the god was mistaken about Ruby. She'd been so helpful, demon or not, and she'd genuinely been there for Sam when he was falling to pieces after Dean's death. And sure, it could just have been a way to gain Sam's trust, but it seemed like a lot of risk and effort to go to in order to get that.

It wasn't that Sam thought that Loki was lying – just that she might have been mistaken, that was all.

"Let me guess. You're wondering if I'm wrong about your demon girlfriend."

Sam damn near levitated at the unexpected voice.

He slewed around to see Loki munching on a packet of French fries.

"Loki! We're in a _library!_" Sam scolded on instinct, before narrowing back in on the more important issue. He ran a hand through his hair as he watched the Trickster god. "It's just… she's done so much for me, you know?"

And the truth was, Sam had kind of come to care about her.

"What, like get you addicted to demon blood and put you square on the path to damnation?" Loki raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Sure. Heaps."

Sam let out an exasperated sigh.

"Look, I know you don't trust her –"

"You bet your ass." The god gave him a long, assessing look. "I tell you what. Next time I drop by, I'll have a way to settle the issue."

"What?" Sam asked, and felt a thrill of alarm as he realised that most ways of getting the truth out of a person weren't exactly pleasant. "But –"

And Loki was gone again.

Sam sank down in his chair with a frustrated sigh.

Loki was gone for several days, which wasn't unusual, and the first Sam and Dean knew of her return was when they were suddenly standing in an ornate lounge room.

"_What the hell?_" Dean spun around wild-eyed, while Sam went for his gun.

"Hi fellas! Take a seat!"

They both turned to see the Trickster lounging on a giant bean-bag, eating out of a tub of ice-cream.

Sam momentarily wondered if an amazing metabolism was a form of divine powers, because with all the junk food she ate, the irritating midget god should have been the size of a house.

"I'm just naturally this hot," Loki commented, and before Sam could do more than wonder if she'd actually _read his mind_ or just guessed his thoughts from his expression, she continued. "So. You're probably wondering why we're here, right? Well, Sam, I picked up that demon girlfriend of yours, and I'm going to find out once and for all what her motives are."

"No way!" Sam protested angrily, infuriated that Loki would just go behind their backs and kidnap Ruby. Sure, he was concerned about what side she was on, but this?

"Sam." Loki's eyes were deadly serious. "You know that I swore an oath to aid you. I'm your ally in this. What I need you to do is sit in this room, and listen to everything that's said, and not come out until or unless I give you the signal, okay?"

Sam glared down into the expressive eyes, but Loki's face didn't shift an inch.

"Fine," he gritted, wanting to punch something, but unable to do anything but agree.

Loki had been right about things so far, and nothing but helpful, and Sam had _heard_ the oath she'd made.

"Thank you," Loki said softly, and walked into the next room.

"Well hello again, Rubikins!" Sam heard Loki exclaim, in her most exuberant, obnoxious voice. "And how are we today?"

"_Fuck you_," Ruby's voice snarled.

"Oh, now don't be like that." Loki sounded like she was pouting. "All I want to know is exactly what you have planned for Samuel Winchester."

Halfway through the sentence her voice suddenly turned dark and menacing, and Sam heard a stifled gasp, as clearly as if Ruby was sitting next to him.

"_I don't know what you're talking about,_" Ruby protested.

"Oh, don't give me that, princess!" Loki's voice was derisive and sneering. "I know _exactly_ what you're up to. Seduce Sammy-boy, drive a wedge between him and his brother, point him at Lilith and push him into letting Lucifer out of the penalty box."

There was another gasp from Ruby.

"Trust me, I know your plans, I know who's involved, and there's no way in hell anyone is getting their hands on Mr Tall and Cute. I am going to _end_ you before that happens. So, demon bitch, you're going to tell me the truth."

Sam wanted to go in there and intervene, but at the same time desperately wanted to hear Ruby's answer – to hear her deny it.

"_Fine_," Ruby's voice spat. Her voice was filled with frustration and hatred. "_So I've been grooming little Sammy Winchester to be the Antichrist._"

Sam made a tiny wounded sound, the noise wrenched out of him without his consent.

Dean gripped his shoulder tightly, but didn't say a word.

Ruby was still talking, sounding petulant and mad that someone had sussed out her master plan.

"How _did you know? You couldn't possibly know! No one knew! Not even Alastair! I put so much effort into this, and some two-bit Trickster worked it out?_"

"Oh, shut up," Loki's voice said, sounding disgusted and grim, and the next moment there was a flare of light from the doorway and a strangled scream.

There was silence.

Sam's throat had closed up, and his eyes were burning. He blinked furiously.

He should have known better, he really should've, but after everything Ruby had done for him, Sam had thought…

God, he'd been so fucking _stupid_. He'd actually trusted a _demon_, and she'd been happily planning to use him for her own ends the entire time, just like demons always did.

But Sam had believed, that in some small, flawed, vague way, Ruby had actually _cared._

And because of that, Sam would have started the apocalypse.

Sam hunched forward and buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, man," Dean said quietly, his hand still like a lifeline on Sam's shoulder. "I know you…"

"Yeah well I was an idiot, wasn't I?" Sam interrupted bitterly. "Everyone _knows_ demons don't care about people, right? So why the hell should Ruby be any different."

"Because she acted like she was there for you when you needed someone, Sam," Dean said firmly, and Sam choked back a sob. "I get it. Look – anyone in your position would have felt the same way. You were in a dark place and she took advantage of that. It's not your fault, Sammy, it's hers."

"Damn straight."

Loki, when Sam blinked back the tears enough to look, looked pained and crushingly sad as she gazed at him.

Just looking at her face, mirroring his emotions so perfectly, made something twist violently in Sam's chest.

"It doesn't matter," said Sam. "I should have known."

The sting of betrayal was somehow worse, knowing that he shouldn't have been such a damn fool in the first place.

"_Oh_, _for_ –"

Loki was suddenly right in his face, pushing Dean rudely out of the way and taking Sam by the shoulders and forcing him to sit up straight with a surprising amount of strength.

Before Sam quite knew what was happening he had a Trickster in his lap.

"What –" Sam began, but Loki wrapped both arms around his neck and _hugged._

Sam found himself desperately holding her close and hugging back for all he was worth.

Somehow he ended up with her head tucked under his chin, and her face pressed into his neck, which was embarrassingly intimate but Sam couldn't bring himself to let go, or even just loosen his grip.

He'd spent four horrific months without Dean, only to be launched into an impending apocalypse that was so much worse than he'd originally been informed, and the one person he'd been able to lean on – or so he thought – had been plotting against him the entire time in the worst possible way. Sam didn't know how much more he could take. He felt like he was close to breaking.

He held Loki tightly.

When Sam finally took a deep breath and released his grip on the Trickster, he found that Dean had wandered off out of a sense of either discretion or embarrassment (probably the latter), and he and the Norse god were alone.

Loki sat back and gave him a surprisingly kind smile.

"Feeling better?"

But then, not so surprising, Sam reflected, remembering the sympathy in her eyes when she'd told him and Dean about heaven and hell's plans for them both.

"Yeah."

"Great." Loki bounced to her feet like nothing had happened, and Sam hadn't treated her like a giant teddy bear for the last twenty-odd minutes. "Let's go find your brother before he goes and does something dumb like fall in the alligator pit."

"Alligator pit?" Sam questioned.

He probably didn't want to know, really.

* * *

After that, Loki hung around a lot more often.

Sam found that far from minding, he enjoyed the company. Besides his brother, he didn't really interact with anyone outside a case, and the Trickster had a sly sense of humour and could be pretty fun to be around when she wasn't being annoying.

"So there I was," Loki said, passing Sam the milkshake she'd snapped up, "fending off giants who thought they could get it on with the handmaiden, and when I manage to get some breathing space finally I turn around to find that Thor, gluttonous imbecile that he is, has just eaten an entire ox, eight salmon, _all_ of the desserts, and three horns of mead, while Thrym just stared in horror at his unfeminine appetite."

Sam laughed.

He'd read this particular myth, but it was far more entertaining to hear it from Loki herself.

"I could have throttled the muttonhead, seriously. Deception? _Not_ his forte. So, I bustle over there to do damage control. Fortunately, giants tend to be pretty damn gullible, so when I said that 'Freya' hadn't eaten or drunk anything for over a week out of excitement about the wedding, Thrym believed me. Man, you should have seen his look of relief when he realised he wasn't gonna have to feed his affianced bride that much every night after all."

Sam grinned, and swallowed a mouthful of milkshake.

It strained credibility, the idea that Thor had _successfully_ been disguised as the goddess of beauty, but then this _was_ Loki – if anyone could pull it off, it'd be her.

Presumably, Thor wore a _lot_ of wedding veils.

"Disaster averted," Loki continued, "or so I thought. But Thrym was so pleased by this evidence that Freya was looking forward to their marriage that he leaned forward to try and kiss her. Now, Thor has a _killer_ glare, right? And he might have been fearless in the face of dragons or invincible foes, but another dude trying to kiss him? _That _wasanother thing entirely."

Sam snorted with laughter.

"As I watch, Thrym suddenly _recoils_ in fright, and beneath the veils I could just make out Thor glaring at the guy for all he was worth. Not good. '_Why are Freya's eyes so red and fierce?_' Thrym asks me. So I kicked Thor in the shin – I was getting pretty sick of covering for the idiot – and replied that it's because Freya hadn't slept for eight nights out of anticipation. Thrym bought it - like I said, _gullible_ – and so we all proceeded into the temple where Thrym and 'Freya' were to be married."

Loki paused to sip at her own milkshake, her eyes bright and mirthful.

"Thor kept sending me these panicked looks, like, what if they didn't bring out Mjollnir, and he actually ended up _married_ to the big dumb giant? '_Thor,_' I hissed, '_if you screw this up, I am totally leaving you to Thrym's mercy. Now pipe down._' Fortunately for everyone – by which I mean Thor and me – the giants brought out the hammer, and Thor grabbed it and immediately bashed all their heads in. And I got to spend the next week telling everyone how ridiculous Thor looked in his bridal clothes, and Heimdall got the satisfaction of knowing that not only had he managed to force Thor to dress in drag, but that the crazy scheme had actually succeeded in getting Mjollnir back."

"That's a great story," Sam commented. "Somehow, I can really see you in that role."

The Trickster smirked.

"Yeah, if something was going on in Asgard, I was usually involved somehow."

"I bet," Sam agreed.

There was a companionable silence.

"Do you…" Sam thought twice about asking the question, but Loki was looking at him curiously, so he forged on. "Do you have much to do with them? The other gods, I mean?"

The Norse god looked thoughtful.

"Not really," she said at last. "Not these days. They're all stuck in the past, you know? Refusing to adapt and change. I, on the other hand, _love_ this century. Cheap chocolate, television, the internet, porn – what's not to love? So what if the humans aren't all," she made a vague whirly motion with one hand, "worshipful and reverent nowadays? They're a lot more _fun_, I can tell you that much."

"Do you miss them?" Sam asked curiously.

Loki's face turned introspective.

"No. Not them."

And before he could ask who she _did_ miss, she was gone.

* * *

Sam Wesson was waiting in line for his coffee when the woman behind him spoke up.

"Hey. I'm Gabby."

Sam turned around and blinked down at her.

She was a cute little thing, about a foot shorter than him, with honey-coloured hair and big eyes, dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt that said 'RAGNAROKSTAR.'

"Sam," Sam replied. "Ragnarokstar?"

She grinned up at him. The expression was oddly familiar.

"My last name's Lockë," she explained, with a smile that invited him to share the joke; and yeah, it did sound a little like Loki. "Yeah. It's a thing."

"Cool," Sam said, and meant it.

They shuffled forward as the line moved onwards.

"You're interested in the Norse gods, then?"

"I'm kind of an expert," Gabby said, her face turning momentarily sly and secretive and amused, like there was an in-joke there somewhere. "How about you? Into mythology?"

"I guess so," Sam agreed. "When I was a kid, we moved around a few times, and in one place someone had left behind this battered old book on Greek and Roman myths, and it sort of got me interested in mythology in general. To be honest, I think my favourite gods were the Norse pantheon, because, I dunno, I guess they seemed… the most human, you know? And then there was the whole thing about hurtling towards a destiny they can't stop – I liked the, um, epic themes and the sense of meaning that gave the stories. And I always liked the fact that Loki didn't let what anyone else thought stop him." Sam made a face. "Totally not me."

"Really." Gabby's eyes were alight with something Sam couldn't define. "That's… interesting, Sam, I gotta say. Thanks for sharing."

Sam was about to reply, but the guy at the counter yelled,

"Next!"

Sam turned to make his order.

"Oh, and I thought I'd mention," Gabby added casually behind him. "The way Dean Smith feels strangely familiar, and the whole unreal-reality Matrix vibe? You'll find out what that's about, I promise. Little Zachariah is just being an asshole."

Sam spun around in shock, but Gabby was no longer behind him; when he looked, there was no sign of her anywhere, as though she'd just vanished into thin air.

Thoroughly freaked-out, Sam muttered his order to the server, his mind whirling with perturbed questions.

* * *

"You freaked me out, you know," Sam said, when things were back to normal and douche angels weren't messing with his mind. "In the coffee shop."

Loki shrugged.

"Well, what was I gonna do? Just leave you there thinking you were some mook in a suit doing the nine-to-five because a dick of an angel messed with your head?"

"Thanks," Sam said quietly. "I mean, not for creeping me out – that sucked – but…"

"Totally not abandoning you?" the Trickster supplied innocently.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem, big guy."

"How'd you get around the angels, anyway?" Sam had to ask, because if the angels had been watching him the entire time, how come they hadn't stopped the god from interfering with their little simulation?

Loki snorted contemptuously.

"Your pal Zachariah thinks a lot of himself," she answered. "But actually, he's easily distracted, and _maybe_ a little dim. It was cows, this time. In his office."

Sam snorted a laugh through his nose.

Loki grinned at him.

"What can I say? Angels are easily disconcerted by livestock."  
Sam cracked up then, at the mental image of the smarmy, pompous angel having to deal with a bunch of cows in his fake office and wondering how the hell they got there.

"Yeahhhh," Loki drawled smugly. "The angels don't really like me. But smiting a god with as many followers as I've got? _So_ not worth the paperwork."

"They won't try to… like, get rid of you?" Sam asked cautiously, feeling concerned.

"Pffft." Loki let him know what she thought of that idea. "Not while they think I'm just being annoying and not doing any real harm to their plans. It'd take an archangel to take out a god like me, and they're all busy."

"Good," said Sam, more firmly than he meant to.

Loki smiled at him.

The expression was warm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Sam was beginning to wonder about Dean and the angel.

He was used to Dean's focused belligerence against anyone who told him what to do, or got in his way, and at first Sam had thought that was all it was.

But he'd started to notice the way that Dean always got right up in Castiel's face, and the way he was always so earnest – angrily earnest, sure, but earnest – about trying to communicate with him despite the cultural and ideological differences, and the way he'd suddenly burst into rants about the angel when doing the most random things, like washing his socks at the laundromat.

And then there was the way that Castiel always seemed to be just as determined to communicate with Dean, and while he had no sense of personal space where anyone was concerned it mostly tended to be Dean's space he was infringing on. And he never seemed to mind the way Dean got all up in his face, even though had it been, say, Uriel, Sam was pretty sure the angel would have smote Dean's ass.

Taken all together, the picture that these facts formed was bewildering, unexpected, and frankly, kind of hilarious.

Sam found himself thinking about it yet again while he was trawling the supermarket for groceries.

He was in the milk section when he was suddenly provided with a soundtrack of someone noisily sucking up a Slurpee through a straw.

Sam found himself smiling.

"Do you think there's something going on between Dean and Cas?" he asked aloud.

The god might not always be around, but he was pretty sure she kept an eye on them, somehow.

"Oh, the angel is _totally_ gone on your brother," Loki answered, shaking her head. "I don't know about Dean."

"I'm pretty certain he's got a thing for Cas," Sam said thoughtfully, "only being Dean, he's either completely oblivious or in denial."

"Sounds about right," Loki observed. "I feel for Castiel, though. The poor kid doesn't have a clue. He thinks he just _admires_ Captain Clueless."

Loki said this like Cas and Dean were the saddest people in the world, and it was so comfortable and ordinary that out of nowhere, with a sudden terrible clarity, Sam flashed back to a similar conversation way back at Stanford, between him and Jess, and the same easy camaraderie that existed between them.

"Sam? Sam? You receiving me, buddy? Sam, you're hyperventilating. _Sam._"

Something slapped Sam on the chest, and he could breathe again.

He blinked dizzily.

"You okay, Samsquatch?" Loki peered up at him with barely-concealed worry.

"I'm fine." God, Sam was _screwed_. "I just had a – a moment of realisation, that's all."

"Must have been a pretty epic realisation," the Trickster commented dubiously, watching him like a hawk.

"Yeah." Sam exhaled. "It was."

Sam had assumed, vaguely, in a distant sort of way, he might fall for someone else like he had Jess; but he'd also always assumed that it would happen sometime in the future when all the demon and then apocalypse problems were over.

Yet here he was, in more shit than ever and aware that somehow, he'd fallen _hard_ for a Norse Trickster god, of all people.

Engaging, annoying, powerful Loki, who was likeable and dangerous and vindictive and yet, sometimes, startlingly kind.

Yeah. Sam was _fucked_.

* * *

If someone had told Sam a few years ago that one day he'd walk into a comic book store only to discover that someone had been writing novelisations of his and Dean's lives – really _bad_ novelisations – he would have been utterly incredulous.

Unfortunately, the last few years had been an exercise in demonstrating exactly how weird his life could get, so Sam reacted more with consternation and worry ( and yeah, a certain amount of embarrassment) when that exact scenario occurred.

Loki, of course, thought it was hilarious.

The moment they left the comic book store she had to hang onto Sam's arm to keep herself upright, she was laughing so hard.

"Seriously, guys, your _faces_," she forced out, leaning into Sam's side, tears of mirth leaking out. "This is _fabulous_. It would totally make an awesome trick – finding out your life is a series of novels. _Cheesy_ novels."

"Shut up," Dean snapped, looking really touchy.

Sam suspected that it was the covers of the novels – for example, one bore an image of two bare-chested, long-haired guys in tight low-rise jeans basically draped over a Chevy Impala – that was really getting to him the most right now.

Loki's eyes had lit up with unholy joy when she'd seen the book covers, and she'd almost suffocated on the spot trying to hold the laughter in.

"Do you know anything about this?" Dean continued, eying the Trickster suspiciously –which wasn't completely unfair, given that Loki _was_ known for this kind of stuff.

"What am I, a walking Winchesterpedia?" Loki protested, but she sounded too amused to really mean it. "I don't _actually_ know everything, awesome though I am."

"Fuck," Dean said grumpily.

Loki snickered.

After some investigation – which basically got them nowhere – Sam and Dean decided to visit Carver Edlund's publisher.

Loki tagged along, of course, 'for the lulz,' as she put it. The pagan god was still heartily amused by the whole thing. Sam had to admit that to an outsider it probably _was_ pretty funny, but he and Dean found it pretty damn disturbing. This guy, whoever he was, had somehow written about the most intimate details of their lives, in eerie detail, and then _sold them_ to the public. Like Dean, Sam had no idea what was going on, but he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Unfortunately, the publisher was being suspicious, and reluctant to share any information with them.

"How do I know you two are legit, hmm?"

"Oh, trust me, they're legit," Loki put in. "They know _everything_ about this series, believe me. Look at this."

Before Sam knew what she was doing the Trickster was unbuttoning his shirt.

"L – _stop that!_" he yelped, trying to bat her hands away.

But Loki was determined and strong, and after a moment she'd exposed his anti-possession tattoo for the woman to see.

"Is that a beauty or what?" she asked proudly. "Both these boys have one. Like I said, _huge_ fans."

Dean, Sam could see, was struggling to maintain his 'serious and earnest' façade, the suggestion of a grin twitching around the edges of his mouth.

Sam gave Loki a look that promised retribution later, but the Trickster just smirked at him.

The publisher gave Sam and Dean calculating, appraising looks.

"Awesome. You know what?" She hiked up her skirt, while Sam watched in apprehension, and Dean with a certain, inevitable interest. "I got one, too."

That was… an _interesting _place to put a tattoo, Sam thought delicately.

"Whoa." Dean was staring. "You _are_ a fan."

"What about you?" The woman directed the question at Loki.

Loki grinned.

"Not so much a fan as these guys. I'm kinda a fan of the Trickster, though."

She grinned roguishly.

The publisher snorted.

"He's an asshat," she said, making Dean snort.

"True," Loki agreed, not at all put out by this assessment.

"Okay," the publisher caved, finally convinced that she was dealing with genuine fans who just wanted to talk to the guy responsible for the book series.

Grabbing a piece of paper and a pan, she scribbled something down.

"His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off."

"Thanks," Loki said, taking the piece of paper and beaming. "Really. Alright, come on, Dumb and Dumber, let's go."

Dean and Sam shot her equally disgruntled looks, but thanked the publisher before following the tiny blonde god out.

* * *

Chuck Shurley, it appeared, lived in a nondescript house in the suburbs.

"This it?" Dean asked, staring at the place.

"According to the address, yeah."

Loki was fairly bouncing with good cheer, annoying midget that she was.

"I heard that, you flipping giant," Loki said amiably, poking Sam in the ribs admonishingly.

"So you _can_ read minds," Sam accused. He'd wondered about that for a while.

"Sure, but most people's minds are boring, so I try not to listen in, but sometimes folks can be loud." The Norse god raised her eyebrows. "We gonna do anything besides stare at this guy's house, or what?"

"Yeah," Dean said grimly, and walked up to the front door.

He rang the bell.

"Look at you, masterfully ringing that doorbell," Loki commented. "If it could, it would be swooning, tough guy. Neighbourhood like this, betcha it doesn't get many strong, chisel-jawed hunks ringing it."

Sam couldn't help but snicker.

"I will punch you," Dean told Sam. "And you too, you irritating little bitch."

Loki smirked, like she'd totally achieved her objective.

All three of them looked up as the door was opened by a dishevelled guy in a ratty bathrobe.

"You Chuck Shurley?" Dean asked bluntly.

"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the _Supernatural_ books?" Sam put in.

"Maybe." Chuck looked between them in confusion, and a little wariness, like he knew people turning up on his doorstep looking for him couldn't be a good thing. "Why?"

"I'm Dean," Dean said shortly. "This is Sam. The Dean and Sam you've been writing about."

Shurley's face fell into something dismayed and resigned.

"Look, uh…" He sounded like he was trying to sound patient and reasonable, but came across as kind of impatient. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life."

He started to shut the door.

"And that's my cue!" Loki exclaimed buoyantly. Before anyone could stop her – not that Sam was sure he wanted to, depending on what she intended to do – she snapped her fingers.

The next second they were all standing in a bouncy castle, emphasis on the _castle _part, and dressed in medieval clothing.

Loki immediately began bouncing, and everyone else, who_ hadn't_ expected to be suddenly standing on an unstable surface, found themselves thrown off-balance.

Sam windmilled wildly in an attempt to stay upright, while Dean grabbed instinctively at Chuck as he fell, so that they both went down in a pile of limbs and velvet.

"Bounce with me, Sam-a-lam!" Loki cried happily, bouncing all over the place like one of those little rubber balls that ricocheted off things when you threw them.

"I told you not to call me that!" Sam called out, trying to keep his balance and not look too closely at Loki – the castle wasn't the _only_ thing that was bouncy, and certain parts of the Trickster's anatomy were sort of difficult to ignore, right now.

Dean and Chuck were trying to get to their feet, Dean swearing vociferously and Chuck looking like he was in the middle of a panic attack, or maybe a really horrible nightmare he wanted to wake up from.

"Dammit, Loki, for crying out loud!" Dean shouted. "Get rid of the frigging castle!"

"In a minute, Deano!" Loki responded, clearly having a ball.

Sam found himself grinning against his will, because _God_, the situation was maddening in every sense of the word, but it was so outrageous and absurd and just completely _Loki_ that Sam couldn't help being entertained.

"Oh my God," Chuck gasped out, his voice high and squeaky. He looked utterly freaked out.

Sam kind of felt for him.

"Loki, he looks like he's going to faint or something," Sam pointed out. "Knock it off."

The Trickster pouted, but snapped her fingers, and they were all standing back at Chuck's wearing their normal clothes again.

"So!" Loki chirped happily. "I'm the Trickster god Loki, and this is Sam and Dean. Are you ready to listen yet?"

Sam supposed that really, considering what he'd just been through, none of them should have been surprised when the writer simply passed out.

"I think you traumatised him," Dean commented, as they all stared down at the unconscious man.

His robe had fallen open, and all he was wearing was a singlet and boxer shorts.

Classy.

"Yeah." Loki frowned. "That looks like it's gonna leave a bruise."

* * *

It took twenty minutes, a wet handkerchief, and a bracing glass or two of whiskey before Chuck Shurley was both conscious and coherent enough for conversation.

For a given value of coherent, anyway.

"Oh my God, you're real," Chuck said, clutching the whiskey bottle to his chest like a teddy bear.

Sam couldn't really blame the guy. He'd forgotten what Loki could be like in full overblown Trickster mode.

"How can you be real?" Chuck stared at them, wild-eyed.

"The question is, not how are we real, but how do you know all about the lives of Team Winchester?" Loki asked.

She'd been as closer to quiet as and unthreatening as she ever got since the novelist had regained consciousness – Sam was pretty sure freaking him out to the point of fainting was an accident she hadn't actually been aiming for – although she was, clearly, still immensely diverted by the whole thing.

Chuck's gaze drifted towards her, and his eyes suddenly focused intently, even as they widened.

"You're – you're Loki." Chuck stared at her with wide, shell-shocked eyes.

Loki winked at him and put a finger to her lips, looking amused.

Sam was surprised that her face didn't hurt with all the endless grinning she'd been doing since they found out about this.

"That's me. I'm Loki the pagan Trickster god."

Loki caught Chuck's nervous blue eyes and held them meaningfully.

Something dawned in Chuck's eyes that might have been wonder, along with a bit of fear, and Loki nodded and gave a satisfied smile.

"Right, Trickster god."

Sam narrowed his eyes. Something in Chuck's tone was off, and the way Loki had stared at him…

"It's great you've got the introductions down pat, well done," Dean interrupted, breaking into Sam's train of thought, "but this isn't helping us work out what's going on, here."

"Isn't it obvious?" Chuck waved his bottle around a bit. He looked to be finally coming out of shock and moving onto distress, instead. "I mean there's only one explanation. I'm a god."

Okay, what?

Loki snorted.

"You're not a god," Sam said, wondering what kind of world this was where he actually had to say things like this to people.

"How else do you explain it?" Chuck insisted, getting a little agitated. "I write things and they come to life. Yeah no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god."

Loki snorted again.

"Trust me, kid, you're not a god," she said firmly.

To Sam's surprise this seemed to calm the author down a little.

He stared at the glass of whiskey in front of him, and drank what was left of it.

"There you go, now don't you feel better using alcohol as a coping mechanism?" the Trickster encouraged him.

Sam turned on her.

"Is there a reason you're giving him such a hard time?" he hissed.

Loki shrugged.

"I don't like it when people know everything."

"I don't know everything," Chuck said earnestly, looking anxious and near tears. "I just – I just get these headaches, like, uh, really bad ones, and, uh, then I see things. I had no idea any of it was real, I swear."

"We believe you," Sam said reassuringly, because it would be just way to embarrassing if they actually made the writer cry. And the guy looked – well, 'highly strung,' was one way of putting it.

"I am so sorry," Chuck continued. "I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing… if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass."

"Look," Dean interrupted, apparently feeling the same as Sam about the idea of making a grown man cry. "It's fine. We think you're probably just psychic."

"No," Chuck shook his head, "if I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is _hard_."

Loki sniggered.

Sam sighed.

* * *

Later that day the brothers went to the local laundromat to get their laundry done, without much more of an idea what was going on.

Dean was sitting paging through Chuck's latest manuscript, while Loki was reading one of the earlier novels. Neither was actually helping Sam with the laundry.

"Wow, Dean," Loki remarked, peering at the pages avidly, "you're kinkier than I thought. The pie and the whipped cream? More creative than I expected."

And wow, Sam _really_ didn't need to know that.

Dean blanched.

"_What?_"

He made a grab for the book, but the Trickster just apparated to the other side of the room without even looking up from her reading.

Her eyebrows were rising as she read, and Sam wondered, with a heavy feeling, just what kind of deviant sexual practices of Dean's Chuck had captured for all posterity.

"Dean," he interrupted the byplay before he could be mentally scarred, "you found anything useful?"

Dean glared balefully at Loki for a moment, but she showed no signs of noticing, and he turned reluctantly towards Sam.

"Not really. '_I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself'_ – my head hurts."

"There's got to be something this guy's not telling us," Sam said, feeling disgruntled as he started putting his latest lot of washing into the machine.

He was starting to feel doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.

Dean kept reading.

"'_Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to feel doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.' _"

"Stop it." Sam was in no mood for this.

"'_Stop it, Sam said.'_ Guess what you do next."

Sam tried to ignore his brother. He also tried to ignore the way that Loki was quietly smiling over in the corner.

"'_Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive.' _I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your 'brooding and pensive' shoulders."

There was a stifled snigger from the corner.

Sam sighed in exasperation.

God, Dean was a _dick _sometimes..

"You just thought I was a dick," Dean accused, frowning down at the manuscript.

"The guy's good," Sam noted.

Loki snickered.

The next morning they were back at Chuck's, having a received an urgent phone call from the man that morning.

When they turned up Chuck was harried and almost manic with a kind of focused worry, waving printed pages around as he explained that he'd had another 'vision' during the night.

"It's Lilith," he blurted. "She's coming for Sam."

"Coming to kill him?" Dean asked.

"When?" Sam interjected. They could worry about Lilith's intentions later.

"Tonight," Chuck said.

"_Really_." Sam glanced over at Loki to see her looking suddenly intent, amberish eyes fixed on the writer with an unblinking stare worthy of Castiel. "And this is going down where?"

Chuck gulped at suddenly being the focus of the Norse god's attention.

"Uh… let's see…" He fumbled through the pages, putting his glasses on as he did so. "Uh, _'Lilith patted the mattress seductively. For a moment, Sam was almost unable to deny his desire, but…'_" Chuck trailed off, and glanced at Sam with a mixture of nervousness and sheepish discomfort. "Uh, you might not want me to read the next bit out."

For some reason, he glanced at Loki.

"What? What's it say?" Dean demanded, reaching for the page Chuck was looking at, but Sam beat him to it.

He started to read the section that Chuck had read aloud.

_Lilith patted the mattress seductively. For a moment, Sam was almost unable to deny his desire, but he found himself abruptly thinking of Loki – beautiful, mercurial, fascinating Loki – and suddenly Lilith's charms seemed flat and pale by comparison. With renewed resolve, Sam found that he resisted her wiles easily._

Flushing up to his hair, Sam quickly looked away from the embarrassing paragraph.

"Uh, yeah, no. Thanks, man."

Even to his own ears, Sam sounded mortified.

Chuck gave him a kind of embarrassed, apologetic look, like he was uncomfortable with fringing on Sam's privacy in this way.

"Sam?" Dean regarded him suspiciously.

Sam didn't look in Loki's direction.

"Um, I, uh, I resist."

"Uh-huh." Dean stared a moment longer, but let it go. He turned to Loki. "So, what, does this mean…"

"Yeah." Loki was smiling, her eyes dark and bright.

It took Sam a moment to make the connection: if they could stop anyone killing Lilith, _they could stop the apocalypse_.

But Dean was already turning back to Chuck, scowling.

"That's if you're right," he said darkly, and Sam felt a frisson of foreboding. "How they hell do you know all this?"

"I told you, I don't know how I know, I just do," Chuck said nervously, watching Dean with an expression reminiscent of a worried sheep.

"That's not good enough." Dean stepped into Chuck's space with intent, his face dark.

"Dean," Sam cautioned.

"Calm down, Winchester," Loki advised. She was watching with apparent casualness, but her eyes were sharp and Sam knew her well enough to see that the casual attitude was feigned.

"This man –" and Dean prodded him in the chest "– knows all about our lives, _before they happen_, and you're fine with that?"

"Winchester, _calm down_, and step away from the writer." Loki's voice was turning flat and dangerous.

Chuck spared a moment from staring at Dean in fright to send a complicated pleading glance at the Trickster.

"I _want_ –"

It was at this point that Castiel teleported in.

"Dean, leave him alone!" the angel ordered, eyes flashing.

As usual Dean listened, and turned away from the poor author to hear what Castiel had to say.

Chuck slumped in relief.

"This man is to be protected," Castiel announced sternly.

Dean glared.

"Why?"

"He's a Prophet of the Lord," Castiel said, with a completely calm, straight face.

Sam couldn't honestly blame Loki when she cracked up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

"You… you're Castiel… aren't you?" Chuck asked, giving the angel the same look of mingled awe and fear he'd given Loki.

"It's an honour to meet you, Chuck," Castiel said solemnly. "I… admire your work."

"That's because you're an angel, not a literary critic," Loki observed.

Sam couldn't help a slight snort from escaping.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean cried. "This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's - he's… he's practically a penthouse forum writer. Did you _know_ about this?" he asked Chuck.

"I, uh, I might have dreamt about it," the apparent prophet admitted.

"_And you didn't tell us?_"

Loki was just snickering steadily.

"It was too preposterous," Chuck explained. "Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night level douchiness."

He made a grab for the whiskey bottle like the whole idea was too much for him, and chugged desperately.

"_This_ is the guy who decides our fate?" Dean asked Castiel, more quietly.

Castiel frowned.

"He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece – a conduit for the written word."

"The word?" Dean repeated. "The word of god? What, like the new New Testament?"

"One day," Castiel said patiently, "these books – they'll be known as the Winchester Gospels."

Sam gaped.

_Seriously?_

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean and Chuck said, in complete unison.

Loki cracked up again.

"Oh man, this is even funnier than I thought it'd be," she said gleefully.

Something seemed to break in Chuck.

"If you'd all just excuse me one minute," he said politely. He stood, still clutching the whiskey bottle, and vanished upstairs without another word.

"Guy needs to lay off the sauce," Loki commented.

Castiel turned to look at her, like he'd only just really noticed that she was there.

The Trickster god gave him a cheeky smile.

"Hey, feathers." Loki gave him an appreciative once-over that made Sam scowl.

Castiel's lips were pursed; apparently he disapproved of pagan Trickster gods. Big surprise there.

"You are Loki," he stated.

"You bet your balls I am," Loki agreed, then gave an exaggerated frown, pretending to contemplate something. "Wait – do you _have_ balls? Angels are sexless or something, right?"

She sent a suspicious look at the angel's crotch.

There was a choking noise coming from Dean.

Castiel's lips thinned. Clueless he might be, but he could tell when he was being mocked.

Sam, for his part, was equal parts horrified and amused by Loki's antics.

The Trickster sent Castiel an appraising look, a genuine one this time, before she spoke again.

"So, I have a way to stop the apocalypse," she said abruptly. "The demon Lilith is the last seal, so if no one can kill her, no one can set Lucifer free. According to Chuck she's going to turn up later tonight. I have a way of trapping her. You want in?"

This time it was Castiel subjecting Loki to an assessing stare. She gazed back steadily.

"There is no way to trap Lilith that cannot be found and overcome," the angel said, but he looked like he was listening.

"Sure there is." Loki still hadn't looked away, or blinked. It was actually vaguely creepy. "I've built a cage, a little along the lines of Lucifer's. No one can break out, no one can break _in_, and I hold the keys and the secret of its location. All we have to do is trap her, and I can stick her in it."

Castiel's eyes narrowed.

"Such a construct would require an in-depth knowledge of Enochian sigils," he observed shrewdly.

Loki shrugged airily.

"You'd be surprised what the Vatican has a hold of, angel boy," she said breezily. "Only catch is, you can't report this to anybody, because your superiors are dicks. I don't know what they've been telling you, but they're pretty gung-ho about this apocalypse shindig."

Castiel considered her proposal.

Sam watched hopefully. Castiel did seem like a pretty by-the-book kind of guy, so far, but he also seemed to have some kind of emotional investment in preventing armageddon, beyond that of his brothers' strict _obey orders_ mentality.

"This could be a trick," the angel said suspiciously.

Loki rolled her eyes.

"Well, _duh_. Hello, _Trickster_." And – man, that voice was obnoxious, Sam noted. "But seriously, I swore an oath. I wouldn't be doing this if it was gonna cause any harm."

She made a face as she said it, like admitted benign motives was something mildly embarrassing, like being seen wearing harem pants in public.

"Heaven is trying to prevent Lucifer from being freed," Castiel told her; but he sounded troubled.

"Right," Loki said skeptically. "I'll let you keep your pretty little illusions. For now. But if you're going to help us stop the last seal being broken, this whole plan stays between us. Tell them afterwards, whatever, I don't care, but not a word until the aberration is locked away. Got it?"

For a long moment Castiel stared straight into Loki's eyes, while the god stared back. It was like a weird-ass supernatural stare off.

"Agreed," Castiel said at last.

"Awesome. Then let's plan this thing."

* * *

Sam sat in the motel room by himself, flipping through the _Supernatural_ book that Loki had been reading earlier, keeping an ear out for any sign of Lilith.

He knew that Loki was around somewhere invisibly – and he couldn't help wondering uncomfortably how often she _was_ invisible around them, and exactly what they were usually doing at the time – and that he wasn't really alone, but even so, waiting around seemingly by himself for the demon to turn up made him feel nervous.

There was a knock on the door.

Sam went to open it, cautiously, but no one was there.

He turned around, fairly certain of what he was going to see.

"Hello, Sam," said the pretty blonde woman standing behind him. Her eyes flared white. "I've been waiting for you."

Sam watched her tensely.

"Where's the knife, Sam?" Lilith asked, perfectly politely.

"On the nightstand," Sam said, never taking his eyes off her. "By the bed."

Lilith easily sensed and destroyed the Devil's Trap hidden under the rug, pretty much like Sam had expected, rolling her eyes as she did so.

"Why are you here?" Sam asked.

She looked solemn.

"To talk."

Sam just scoffed at her serious face.

"Yeah, well, I'm not interested," he said.

Lilith sighed.

"Even if I'm offering to stand down? From the seals… the apocalypse… all of it?"

Sam felt a flare of surprise.

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked skeptically.

"Honestly?" Lilith asked bluntly. "No. You were always the smart one. But it's the truth. You can end it, Sam. Right here, right now. I'll stop breaking seals, Lucifer stays rotting in his cage. All you have to do is agree to my terms."

"Why would you back down? Why now?"

Lilith began to walk around a little.

"Turns out, I don't survive this war," she told him. "Killed off, right before the good part starts. So what I want is for everything to go back to the way it was. Back before I had to deal with angels 24/7."

"And what do you want in return?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"Your head on a stick," Lilith replied immediately. "Dean's, too. Call it a consolation prize. So what do you say, Sam? Self-sacrifice is the Winchester way, isn't it?"

Sam just raised an eyebrow.

"You really think I'm stupid enough to fall for this?"

"I make a deal, I have to follow through," Lilith retorted. "Those are the rules, and you know it. Are you really so arrogant that you would put your life before the lives of six billion innocent people? Maybe it's all that demon blood pumping through your pipes. Man after my own heart."

"You think I'm like you? I am _nothing_ like you," Sam almost snarled, the mention of the demon blood hitting him harder than he liked.

Lilith just smiled.

"Then prove it." She sank down onto the bed, and patted it seductively.

For a moment, Sam genuinely _was_ tempted, if only a little. The idea of preventing the apocalypse was always appealing, and Lilith was wearing an attractive blonde, which Sam had to admit to himself that he did kind of like, and it had been a while since he'd last been laid.

But just as Chuck had written, Sam couldn't help thinking about Loki, and comparing the two. Both were smaller, blonde women: however, Loki was warm and mischievous and Sam genuinely liked her – more than liked her – while beneath Lilith's admittedly-lovely exterior lurked the sadistic, cold-hearted bitch of a demon who had tortured his brother.

Yeah, there was really no comparison.

Sam still had to pretend, though, so when Lilith smiled invitingly Sam reluctantly moved forward, like a man battling with his better instincts.

The loud _snap_ was clearly audible in the quiet of the motel room.

Lilith shrieked in surprise and anger as she found herself bound securely to a chair, and trapped at the centre of a devil's trap painted onto the floor.

"And it's a wrap!" Loki proclaimed smugly, her eyes lit up with tremendous satisfaction.

"Who are you?" Lilith demanded, writhing and straining against her bonds with no effect. "Let me go!"

The Trickster shook a finger at the demon, _tsk_-ing sadly.

"Now now, princess," she said admonishingly, "we have gone to _way_ too much trouble to get you here for that." She raised her voice. "Castiel!"

Suddenly Castiel and Dean were standing next to Sam, Castiel looking stoic, while Dean wore his customary disoriented 'transported by angels' expression that suggested bits of him had temporarily been re-arranged mid-flight, or something, and he was trying to work out where they'd gone to.

"Right," Loki said. "Castiel and I are going to do ready the Cage, while you too watch twinkle-toes here. It shouldn't take long. All you have to do is watch the demon and make sure she doesn't escape or get rescued, etcetera. We clear?"

"No problem," Dean responded, glaring at Lilith with his jaw clenched as the demon tried to bait him.

"Capital. Don't do anything boneheaded, and we'll be back as soon as we can."

Loki put her hand on Castiel's arm, and as the angel looked at it in confusion the two of them vanished.

* * *

Waiting for Loki and Castiel to come back was boring, but nerve-wracking.

Sam and Dean simply sat, finding ways to kill the time, while Lilith ranted and shrieked at them: insults, pleas to let her go, plans for revenge; everything she could think of to try and make them release her.

The brothers ignored her. Dean was steadfastly flicking through TV channels, the volume on low so that they could hear if there was an ambush, or something, while Sam continued flipping half-heartedly through the _Supernatural_ book.

It was actually kind of engrossing, he admitted privately, despite the cheesiness and predictable, shoddy writing. Kind of like the literary equivalent to that show Dean liked, the medical one with the hot nurses and doctors.

"You'll regret this when I pull your entrails out through your nose," Lilith snarled.

Dean paused and raised his eyebrows at that one.

"Creative."

Lilith made a wordless sound of rage and pulled at the ropes, yet again. The chair moved with a squeak. Again.

Sam glanced at her, but she was sitting there venomously glaring at them both.

Sam shut his book.

"Dean," he got his brother's attention, "I'm gonna…" He gestured to the bathroom.

Dean nodded, and Sam got up and walked in, shutting the door behind him.

He was washing his hands when he heard the splintered snap of a breaking chair.

_Oh, God._

Sam burst out of the bathroom just in time to see Lilith fling his brother into the opposite wall with a gesture.

She turned and smiled, eyes white, and dived for the door.

Sam didn't hesitate, just grabbed Ruby's knife off the nightstand as he ran past and shot for the door after her.

Lilith's host was crumpled in the hallway, gasping in shock and horror as a cloud of black smoke vanished.

The woman recoiled in confusion and fear as Sam came barrelling out of the motel room.

"_Shit!_" Sam snarled, and whirled. Back in the motel room Dean was groaning, but already getting to his feet. "Dean, she's gone!"

"_Fuck_," Dean grunted. "Cas and Loki are gonna kill us."

Sam turned back out to face the hallway, where the blonde woman was sitting looking terrified and traumatised.

"Easy," Sam said, trying to calm his voice and manner. "You're okay, it's alright."

"That thing," the woman whimpered, her voice trembling so badly that she could barely speak, "it was – it was inside me." She started to shake.

"Sam, come take a look at this," Dean called out.

With an apologetic mutter to Lilith's poor victim, Sam went back into the motel room to see his brother staring grimly down at the devil's trap.

Part of the paint had been scraped away.

Sam glanced at the broken chair, already knowing what he would see.

The bottom of the chair legs had paint clinging to them.

All that writhing and struggling she'd been doing… seemingly in a futile effort to escape, but in reality an attempt to free herself from the devil's trap.

"We need to call Loki and Cas," Sam said, glancing at Dean.

Before he'd finished pulling out his phone there was a windy sound, and Loki and Castiel were standing there.

"_What did you do?_" Loki shrieked. Sam flinched away from the sound; it almost buzzed through his ears.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, as her eyes fixed on him. "She – she managed to break the devil's trap –"

Loki snarled in rage.

"You _fools!_" She looked like she wanted to hurt them. "We're not the only ones after her, and if she's out there running around because she thinks she's –"

She stopped midsentence, as Castiel gasped sharply.

"What?" Dean asked, but Sam thought he already knew.

"_Oh, God_." His stomach curled in dread. "It's too late."  
"What?" Dean looked confused, but Sam barely paid him any attention.

"Someone has taken advantage of your lapse," Castiel said stonily. "The Cage has been opened. Lucifer is free."

Sam staggered to the bed and sat.

Loki breathed in like she was trying to control herself, a long, harsh inhalation.

"I leave you alone for five minutes with a way to prevent the apocalypse, and while I'm gone you two let her escape and get herself killed, thereby setting Lucifer loose upon the world. That's great, just great. You boys have really outdone yourselves this time."

She glared at them, her eyes brightened to an angry gold that burned with livid fire.

"I'm going to go away for a little while until I don't feel like using your heads for piñatas."

She vanished.

Castiel looked scarcely less angry.

"I have taken an enormous risk," the angel said, closer to a towering rage than Sam had ever seen him, and with the blazing eyes and the air crackling around him he looked fucking _frightening_. Sam was reminded of the Old Testament stories of furious angels smiting entire cities. "I have disobeyed, and will no doubt be punished severely for it, and _this_ is how you repay me? With an act of gross incompetence that has cost us a positive outcome in our fight against the apocalypse?"

"Cas, man," Dean began, stumbling over the words, "we're really, really–"

"_Do not_ tell me that you are sorry, Dean Winchester," Castiel ordered coldly. "Apologies will not fix the mess you have created."

With one last burning, angry stare, the angel disappeared with the faint sound of wings.

"Well, _fuck_," Dean finally said ineloquently.

Despite the sheer inadequacy of the comment, Sam wholeheartedly agreed with him.

_Fuck_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Loki didn't return for two days, and when she did she was glaring, eyes still molten-gold with wrath. It was clear that she was still incandescently angry.

Sam opened his mouth to blurt out an apology, but the god beat him to it.

"You _yahoos!_" Loki was seething. "I have laid my very _existence_ on the line for you two, I have sworn an _oath._ And just when it looks like we'll be able brush through this thing relatively painlessly, you two _screw it all up!_"

Sam found himself flinching back at the sheer rage in her voice, and the heavy feel of electricity blanketing the air like the lead-up to a thunderstorm.

Loki's tirade didn't end there, though.

"We could have been free and easy by now, but no, you stupid fuckers stopped _that_. Because you Winchesters? Are grade-A fuck-ups, starting with your daddy and working down to you. Do you muttonheads have any idea how much_ harder_ this is going to be, now that Lucifer is out of the time-out room? It's practically impossible! Well done guys, you doomed the world!"

The Trickster's words burned like acid, but the truth in them slammed home.

Loki had, practically single-handedly, gotten things to the point where the apocalypse has pretty much prevented – and then, in one fell swoop everything had gone to hell thanks to Sam and Dean. Loki had devoted herself to stopping the world from ending, and for what? Just for the Winchesters to mess it up.

Everything the god had just said was totally justified.

Sam took a deep, unsteady breath.

"I can release you from your oath, if you want," he said quietly.

His chest constricted at the thought.

Loki glared at him.

"Fuck you, Winchester. I promised I'd help, and I'm going to help. I just want you to know you're both dumb shits who couldn't find their asses with a map."

Somehow, in spite of himself, the furious comment made Sam snort with laughter.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, and tried to hold back the near-uncontrollable mirth that wanted out.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry.

Probably both.

Loki abruptly sagged.

While Sam blinked at the rapid change in demeanour, the Trickster ran a hand over her face.

"Hell, kiddo, I'm sorry too." She sounded so bleakly weary that Sam actually felt guiltier than when she'd been cutting into him. "Jeez, I'm in a bitchy mood today."

"Yeah, I think that's kind of justified," Sam said dryly.

Loki managed a wry chuckle, and reached up to ruffle his hair.

"Don't worry. We'll figure it out."

"How?" Sam asked. "This is – I mean, we're talking about Lucifer. We're talking about all of Heaven and Hell working against us, here. I don't think that this is something that can just be fixed."

"Not all of Heaven," the Trickster said sombrely. "And probably not all of Hell, either, although I doubt that'll help much. I do mean it, though, Sam, there are always options. We've just gotta stand up to what's coming."

She looked depressed and tired. Sam couldn't blame her.

"I'll go talk to Castiel," Loki said. "He's angry, justifiably so, but I'm pretty sure he's on our side in this, even if it means rebelling a bit. Although I'm sorry it's going to come to that. The kid angel doesn't deserve the shit they'll try and put him through, upstairs."

Her expression was fierce and somewhat protective.

It stirred something warm and painful in Sam's chest that he'd rather not contemplate.

"How come you always call him the kid angel?" Sam asked, because it was something that Loki sometimes did; never to Castiel's face, but when she was talking to Sam or Dean.

Loki shot Sam a look of mild surprise, swift enough to almost cover the _uh-oh, someone caught that_ expression that flashed ever-so-briefly over her face.

"Because he _is_ a kid," she said. "Or close enough, anyway, by angelic standards. He's _young_. Why else would he be so different to the others? Your pal Anna was a bit older than him, but she was pretty young herself. They still care, and they're flexible enough to learn and change. Kid angels."

Sam stared, and tried to wrap his brain around that one.

The idea of Castiel being a child…

"Not a _child_, exactly," Loki clarified. "More like, I dunno, early college years?"

Even so, it was still kind of mind-boggling.

It just reaffirmed Sam's conviction that angels were weird.

"More than you know, Sam," Loki agreed.

"Stop reading my mind," Sam told her mildly.

"Sorry. Anyway, I'll go track him down, have a chat, bring him back here so we can make sure we're all on the same page."

Loki shifted, ready to vanish, but Sam put a hand on her arm to stop her.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

He received a subdued, but genuine smile in return before the pagan god apparated out of there.

* * *

In the weeks after Lucifer was set free Sam and Dean found that most of their time was taken up with hunting.

A whole lot of demons had escaped Hell when Lucifer had, apparently, and all kinds of apocalyptic omens had started manifesting, so that the brothers barely had any time to actually think about what to do about the Devil himself.

Sam had gotten the shock of his life when, calmly smiling, the fallen archangel had turned up in his dreams one night. He'd told Loki what had happened the moment he'd woken up, and for an instant had experienced an entirely new kind of fear as the Trickster's eyes had blazed golden with wrath just as they had after Lilith had escaped, and for several tense seconds the air had carried a feeling of intense pressure.

Loki had regained control of herself after a minute or so, and promised Sam darkly that she would take care of it.

So far the god had been true to her word; and well, if Sam suspected that she watched him sleep the way that Castiel sometimes did with Dean, it was worth it to keep Lucifer out of his head.

Despite the recent influx of nasties, about a month after the Lilith incident Sam, Dean, and Castiel stopped by to visit Chuck in the hope that he had some kind of advice on how to handle the projected big archangel showdown.

"Oh God, it's you," Chuck greeted them as he opened the door, sagging.

"Hey, Chuck," Sam said pleasantly. "Mind if we come in?"

Chuck looked between the three of them like he was trying to decide exactly how hard it would be to get rid of them. It seemed that the answer was 'really, really hard,' because he sagged further and open the door wide.

"Sure," he said morosely. "Why not."

"Awesome," Dean said breezily, and stepped inside. Sam and Castiel followed him in.

"So," Chuck said, surreptitiously wiping his palms on the back of his pants, "uh, what can I do for you?"

"You can tell us if there is any way to stop what is coming," Castiel said, point-blank.

Chuck grimaced.

"Look, guys, I don't know everything. I only know the stuff I see, and that's…" He waved his wands around a bit. "Usually focused on you guys, somehow. I don't know how much I can help. But–"

His words were interrupted by a great rumbling beginning somewhere above the house.

Everyone's eyes involuntarily turned upwards.

"That, uh, that doesn't sound good," Chuck stuttered, eyes going wide.

"It's the archangel," Castiel said, his own eyes widening.

He spun to face Sam and Dean.

"Go," Castiel said urgently, as the whole house shook and bright light began to gather at the ceiling. "I'll hold him off."

He looked pale but determined.

"But–" Dean started.

"_Go!_" Castiel shouted as the ceiling threatened to fall in, shining brightly now. "Both of you go! _Now!_"

"Dean, come on!" Sam grabbed his brother and dragged him from the room towards the front door.

Dean cursed, but went, and the two of them ran for the car.

Glancing back Sam could see that the top of Chuck's house was engulfed in blinding white light even as a terrible ear-splitting whine started up.

Clutching at his ears Sam fumbled for the car door handle, even as he realised in a jumbled sort of way that there was no way Dean could drive with the sound spearing through their skulls.

The door fell open, and Sam tried to fold himself inside –

– and staggered onto plush carpet, into a room that was blissfully noise-free.

Sam shook his head, trying to clear it off the ringing, and wiping at his ears – looking at his hands, he saw that they'd come away bloody. Dean was doing much the same.

Blinking around, Sam realised that both of them were standing in the house where the Trickster had brought them for Ruby's interrogation.

Without a sound Loki was suddenly _there_: and to Sam's incredulous relief she was holding Castiel by the arm. The angel looked bewildered and rather the worse for wear, but _alive_.

"_Cas!_" Dean shouted, rushing forward.

Loki let go of Castiel's arm in time to avoid getting caught in the middle as Dean half-hugged the seraph.

"Dude, are you okay?" Dean asked, while the Norse god stepped back, a sort of wry twist to her mouth as she saw Sam staring at her in disbelief.

Something of the bewilderment drained out of Castiel, and the hardness around his eyes and mouth relaxed slightly.

"I am fine, Dean."

Castiel let Dean check him over for a minute or two, before turning to where Loki was standing.

_Waiting_, Sam thought, and wondered uneasily why.

"Raphael was preventing me from leaving," Castiel said, blue eyes boring into the Trickster's. "You should not have been able to rescue me. No Trickster god is that powerful. Who are you really?"

_Oh._

Things began to click together in Sam's head, little discrepancies and odd inconsistencies that he'd noticed over the past few months.

"Excuse me?" the Trickster asked, raising her eyebrows elaborately.

"You don't act much like a Trickster any more, either," Sam added his own argument to Castiel's, because he'd wondered about this for a while. "Not really. How many tricks have you pulled these last few months? Then there's the fact that you act like you actually care about what happens to us, when supposedly all you want is to prevent the apocalypse."

"I –"

"We all know you're hiding something, so why don't you just tell us who the hell you really are?" Dean interrupted.

For a moment Loki stared between the three of them; then, huffing and folding her arms, she looked away sulkily.

"I'm Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel."

"_Gabriel?_" Castiel's eyes flew wide.

Gabriel smiled at him a little.

"Hey, little bro."

"Gabriel, like the _archangel?_" Sam repeated incredulously.

Gabriel smiled at him as well, looking slightly amused, and maybe a little satisfied at his reaction.

"Guilty as charged."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dena said in disbelief.

"Nope." Gabriel was definitely looking amused, now. "I left Heaven _ages_ ago, because my brothers are all asshats and I wanted nothing to do with their apocalypse plan."

"Why become Loki?" Sam asked, still trying to get his head around the fact that the annoying, unpredictable Trickster he'd come to depend on was in fact _the archangel Gabriel_.

"Well, I had to disguise myself somehow."

"You are the Angel of Judgement," Castiel said, with an expression of realisation. "That is why you chose to hide as a Trickster."

Gabriel shot a dirty look at him.

"The Angel of Judgement?" Dean asked warily.

"That, and the Messenger," Gabriel explained reluctantly. "Michael was the Commander, Raphael the Healer, and I was the Messenger and the Angel of Judgement. They're kind of the same thing, really."

"And Lucifer?" Sam found himself asking.

Gabriel's expression closed off.

"Lucifel, the Visionary," she replied curtly. "The one angel gifted with creativity and an ability to see things no other angel could."

"That… kind of makes sense," Sam had to say, because honestly, it explained a _lot_.

"Yeah." Gabriel hunched her shoulders a bit, sort of awkwardly, and Sam suddenly remembered that hey, she had _wings_, and wondered what they were doing right now. "The brightest out of all of us, and _this_ is what he chose to do with himself."

Her tone was bitter and angry, but underneath that Sam could hear a wealth of hurt.

"So all this time, we've had an archangel on our side?" Dean asked.

Gabriel shrugged, her face still a little dark.

"Yup."

"But if you're an archangel, can't you – I don't know – _talk_ to the other angels?" Sam had to know.

Gabriel's mouth twisted wryly, and Sam wished that he could take the question back as there was another flash of pain.

"What, you think I haven't _tried?_ It's like talking to a brick wall." She glared at nothing in particular. "All I wanted was for my brothers to stop fighting each other and quit trying to destroy the Earth, but apparently that's too much to ask."

"I'm sorry," Sam said earnestly. Gabriel blinked, and glanced at him.

Some of the hard, hurt look drained out of her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks." She ended on a sigh.

"If you hadn't rescued me, you would not have had to expose your secret," Castiel said gravely. He'd been staring at Gabriel the entire time, and Sam wouldn't help but wonder what he was thinking right now "Thank you."

Gabriel's face screwed up, her expression torn between being gratified and annoyed and disgusted.

"You've really got self-esteem issues, don't you," she snarked, but her tone was somewhat fond. "Don't sweat it, baby brother."

Castiel's expression became conflicted, like he wasn't sure how to respond to being called a baby anything.

Sam had to hide a slight smile.

"Seriously," Gabriel asked, "do we really need to dredge up every painful thing that has happened like, ever? Is the Hallmark Moment over now? I mean, sure, I'm an archangel, but I'm still the same annoying pain in the ass I was before, you know. It's just that now you know I'm also an annoying pain in the ass who can smite you to atoms."

There were some nervous looks.

Gabriel rolled her eyes.

"Oh, _please_. If I was gonna smite you it would have been when you screwed up the Lilith thing. Besides, I'm kind of fond of you. You've grown on me, like a fungus or something."

"Wow, thanks," Sam said dryly. "My heart, uh, swells with joy at your words."

Loki snickered.

"Come on," she decided. "You almost got exploded by Raphael, Castiel. We should eat ice cream. _To the kitchen!_"

She stood and sailed off into another room.

"Ice cream?" Dean repeated blankly, his eyebrows up near his hairline.

Castiel appeared just as bemused, but pleased that his sister apparently cared about him.

Sam shook his head.

"Just go with it," he advised them, knowing the folly of trying to follow Gabriel's logic.

_Gabriel_.

That was going to take some getting used to…

* * *

While Sam and Dean were aware that thanks to them, the apocalypse was well on schedule, it had never occurred of either of them that this might have incurred the wrath of other hunters.

It definitely didn't occur to them that this could get them shot.

"Hi," Gabriel announced, popping up next to Sam, Castiel in tow. "You guys are in Heaven. Let's go before someone notices any of us."

"Wait, Heaven?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Oh, I don't have time for this," Gabriel snarled. "Castiel, grab your whatever-he-is."

Before anyone could say anything else, Gabriel was suddenly right up in Sam's face.

The next few minutes were really confusing: Sam was surrounded by a roaring, shining gold-white light that was warm and irresistibly familiar, and there was no sensory input whatsoever, just an awareness of the light that was overwhelming in its brightness and intensity.

Sam gasped into life like he'd been shocked, sitting bolt upright and inhaling desperately.

His heart was pumping furiously like he's just run a marathon, and his body felt weirdly familiar-yet-unfamiliar.

Next to him Dean was going through the same _oh my God, I'm alive again_ routine, while Castiel watched them both with concern.

Sam paused.

Something felt… like…

He leapt off the bed and barged into the bathroom for a moment's privacy.

"_GABRIEL!_" Sam roared from the bathroom.

"You bellowed, Sam?"

Gabriel was suddenly in the motel room with Dean and Castiel.

Sam stormed out of the bathroom.

"Why the hell is there a _handprint_ on my ass?" he demanded.

Dean snorted with laughter, while Castiel looked sharply at his sister.

Gabriel shrugged.

"It seemed the best place to grab?"

Dean lost his struggle with himself and went off into guffaws of mirth.

"Yeah, yeah Dean, it's real funny!" Sam snarled.

Gabriel just raised her eyebrows at him teasingly, and vanished.

Sam made an angry, frustrated noise, and stomped back into the bathroom.

It wasn't that he wasn't happy to be alive, he told himself, or that he was mad that Gabriel had retrieved him. It wasn't even that he entirely minded his brand-new angelic handprint.

But his _ass?_

If Sam had ever doubted that some aspect of Gabriel's Trickster identity was genuinely part of her nature, that doubt was _definitely_ gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

A day later, in a different motel room, Sam was by himself and playing around with the laptop when Castiel appeared.

"Hey, Cas," he greeted the angel. "Dean's out, if you're looking for him. At the local bar, I think."

"I am not looking for Dean."

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Sam, there is something I must tell you." Castiel was wearing his most serious face.

"What's up, Cas?" Sam asked, wondering what this was about.

It wasn't like Castiel usually ignored him, exactly – okay, yes it was, it was exactly like that, so whatever was going on had to be pretty important for Castiel to approach him alone.

"The mark Gabriel left on your body," Castiel said bluntly. "The handprint."

Sam eyed him.

"What about it?"

To his surprise, Castiel seemed… uncomfortable.

"It is… no ordinary mark," the angel said after a moment, like he really didn't want to be sharing this.

An uneasy feeling began to build in Sam's gut, even as his curiosity was piqued.

"What does that mean?"

Castiel stared for a moment, then looked away.

"It's… the precursor to a mating bond," he said reluctantly.

Okay, _what?_

"Say what?" Sam asked blankly.

Castiel correctly interpreted this as a request for more information

"Angels," he divulged, like Sam was dragging the words out of him with pliers, or something, "do not form relationships as humans do. Your standard 'romantic' relationship – a male and female capable of, uh, reproductive activities – does not apply. For the most part angels do not engage in pair-bonding."

"For the most part," Sam prompted.

He wasn't exactly sure why he was getting a lecture on the non-mating habits of angels, but he was starting to get the faintest inkling.

It kind of terrified him.

"But, sometimes," Castiel admitted, "an angel will develop an intense, focused regard for another that isn't satisfied by ordinary interactions. To use the _very_ broadly equivalent term, their feelings are romantic. If both parties feel the same way, it's possible for them to, uh, link their Grace, so that they're always aware of each other's presence. There's often some level of emotional overlap as well."

"But you said this is a precursor to a mating bond," Sam said, on autopilot. His brain had shut down.

"It's a statement of intent and affection." Castiel wasn't meeting Sam's eyes. He looked unusually shifty.

And when you considered Castiel and the human he'd marked in that light – wow, didn't _that_ put a different spin on things.

"And Dean?" Sam asked carefully. Castiel didn't respond. "Does he… know?"

He already knew the answer.

"No." Castiel was looking at the floor like eye contact might just possibly kill him. "I should not have… but it took several years, relatively speaking, to raise Dean from perdition. I grew… attached."

That explained a hell of a lot, really.

"There is a very faint connection formed, when one or both parties are marked," Castiel added, for Sam's benefit.

Sam refused to roll with the slight change in subject.

"Dude, you should really tell him."

"I know." Castiel didn't sound happy. "But I find myself apprehensive about Dean's reaction."

Sam sighed. Yeah, he could see that.

So, basically, in other words angel was too chicken to explain to Dean that the two of them were like, angel-betrothed.

"He'll find out eventually," Sam advised – because if there was one thing you could count on, he and his brother _always_ found this stuff out, mostly at the worst possible time. "The longer you wait, the worse he's going to react."

"Believe me, I'm aware."

Castiel's tone was tight.

Sam nodded, and let it drop.

"Thanks for telling me, man," he said, instead of pressing the issue. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an archangel to talk to."

"You're welcome, Sam."

* * *

Sam supposed that he should feel angry with Gabriel, or betrayed that she would mark him without asking or telling him what it meant.

But when he thought about it, he found that he _liked_ the idea of having some sort of mystical angelic bond with the irreverent, oddball angel.

Yeah, clearly Sam had it _bad_.

But honestly, he'd had feelings for Gabriel for a while now, and all this meant was that his feelings went deeper than he'd realised.

Sam had never thought he'd ever have the slightest chance with the archangel – because, you know, _archangel_ – so once he'd finished mulling things over the fact that Gabriel apparently had some kind of feelings left him feeling a little giddy and absurdly optimistic.

"_The handprint on my arm is WHAT!_"

Sam paused in his musings as Dean's bellow clearly came through the open window.

His brother spent the next several minutes ranting at Castiel and yelling things, before suddenly his voice went quiet.

Sam listened as hard as he could as Dean said something in a low voice, and Castiel's even voice was barely audible in response.

There was complete silence.

Well, except for the light _thud _of a body gently propelled into a wall, but Sam _did not want to know_, so he tried to focus on his own issues and _not_ picture his brother and Castiel doing things up against a wall.

_Dammit. _

Sam took a deep breath and decided there was probably no better time to call Gabriel and sort things out.

"Gabriel," he said aloud.

And there was an archangel sitting opposite him, munching on a chocolate bar.

"So," Sam said carefully, "precursor to a mate bond, huh?"

Gabriel went still.

"Castiel told me," Sam said, by way of explanation.

"Let me guess, you weaselled it out of him."

Sam couldn't help the slight grin at how well she knew him.

"Yeah, a little. Dean freaked out a bit."

"Finding out he had an angel in love with him was kind of a shock, huh?"

"Pretty much," Sam agreed. "Gabriel. Are you… are you in love with me?"

Gabriel looked him straight in the eye and answered simply.

"Yes."

_Okay, wow_, Sam thought, trying to contemplate that one. It was sort of enormous, and he found that he couldn't quite grasp the concept straight-on.

"Why?" he asked, because he genuinely wanted to know. "I'm –"

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence," Gabriel interrupted, a little fiercely. "You are a lot of things, Samuel Winchester, but tainted? Worthless? That is _not_ one of them. You're loyal, and you're kind and intelligent, you're perceptive and empathic, and you have a strong sense of humour and a streak of deviousness that just makes you all the more worth knowing. You've got more heart than anyone else I know, and your soul _glows_ with everything you are, so don't go doubting yourself in front of me, okay? _Winchesters_. You're as bad as each other."

Sam could only stare at Gabriel open-mouthed, feeling absolutely stunned. No one had ever said anything like that to him before.

There was something tight and constricting in his chest, and his eyes were burning. Sam blinked it away.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Gabriel's expression didn't change from the serious, burning stare. "Look. I know this is a lot to deal with. I'll give you some time to think about it."

"Gabriel –" Sam began quickly; but she had already vanished.

Sam sighed.

Well, he supposed he did have a lot to think about – like how to convince an archangel that he returned their affections.

* * *

The idea ended up taking a lot of thought, because this was _important_, and it wasn't just Sam's issues and feelings that were involved here.

Sam would have liked to think that the situation was simple; to him, it actually sort of was; he was pretty certain, though, that Gabriel saw things differently.

It was difficult to try and put himself in Gabriel's shoes. Sam never understood what the hell was up with angels anyway, and trying to work out what was going on with Gabriel was doubly hard. She could be so unpredictable, and it was sometimes hard to work out what was real and what was just part of a façade that she was putting on.

Part of it, Sam was sure, was that in her own way Gabriel was as screwed-up as any of them, thanks to her asshole brothers. He knew that she loved them, and missed them, but they were too preoccupied with carrying out Heaven's plans to actually act like family.

Gabriel might have been the one who left Heaven, but Sam had the feeling that they'd abandoned her, personally, long before that. The archangel was far too used to being alone.

So, what Sam needed to do was try to let Gabriel know that he genuinely cared about her and wanted to be in a relationship with her, and that if he could possibly help it then he was going to be there for her.

In the end, Sam wound up in a casual little Italian restaurant at a table for two, dressed in his nicest shirt and jeans – which wasn't saying much, he admitted ruefully to himself – hoping that this was the right way to go.

"Gabriel," Sam announced, willing the archangel to appear, and waited.

Gabriel appeared after about a minute, blinking, and looking around.

She looked surprised to find herself in a small, but not unpleasant restaurant, where Sam was perusing a menu.

"Sam? What's up?" She raised an eyebrow, like she was genuinely wondering where this was going.

"Well, I think the bolognaise sounds nice," Sam said, putting his menu down. "How about you?"

Gabriel raised both eyebrows this time.

"Sam, are we on a date?"

Sam just raised his own eyebrows in return, waiting.

Gabriel picked up her own menu, and Sam smiled.

"You're right, the bolognaise looks good," the archangel observed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Sam agreed. "I think I'll order that. How about you?"

Gabriel looked through the menu for another moment.

"Yeah, looks fine to me, Samsquatch." She sent him a speculative, slightly guarded glance. "This is quite a gesture."

"I like you, Gabriel," Sam said, shrugging. "I like you a _lot_. And I've been in love with you for a while, now. I'd like to see where it goes, if that's okay with you."

Gabriel watched Sam for a long time.

"Yeah, okay," she finally said, quietly.

Sam felt like his entire face lit up.

Gabriel smiled back.

* * *

One of the nice things about having an archangel on your side was that if you, say, were kidnapped by demons planning to turn you over to Lucifer, then even spells and wardings couldn't keep said archangel from turning up to rescue you.

"I swear, I didn't know it was possible for humans to get in this much trouble until I met you two," groused a sudden, familiar voice.

"Gabriel!" Sam said in relief.

Gabriel was looking annoyed, with her hands on her hips and her _why do I even bother_ face on, but Sam was too pleased to see her to care.

"It's like you've got some kind of gift," she continued to complain, even as she snapped her fingers and set both of them free. "I feel like I'm the knight in shining armour in some kind of feminist reverse-gender roles fairytale. I mean, sure I get the handsome prince out of it, but slaying dragons all the time gets kind of monotonous after a while."

"Fuck you," Dean snapped, his pride clearly offended.

"Thanks, Gabriel," Sam told the archangel, who was looking vaguely pissed at Dean's blatant ingratitude.

And because it seemed like the right thing to do, Sam leaned down – way down – and kissed her.

When he moved back Gabriel looked unimpressed, eyebrows raised, but less like she wanted to smite Dean on principle.

"That was pathetic, Sam."

Before he could respond, Gabriel grabbed a handful of Sam's shirt and yanked him forwards, sealing her mouth over his own.

It was hot and wet and sensual, and Gabriel instantly moulded her figure to Sam's, hands roaming everywhere.

"_Jesus!_" Sam distantly heard Dean say. "Get a room!"

But Gabriel had just grabbed Sam by the ass, her hand perfectly fitting over the imprint there, and a wave of heat and emotion rolled over him, only some of it his.

Gabriel broke the kiss a moment later, leaving Sam dazed and hopelessly aroused, and sort of shimmied back down his frame to the ground – at some point she'd apparently climbed up him and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He hadn't noticed, too lost in sensation.

"Wow," said Sam, because, _wow_. "I definitely should have done that earlier."

Gabriel gave him a smug, sultry smirk, looking very pleased with herself, but Sam didn't miss the affection in the amber-green eyes.

"Yeah," she told him. "Seriously, it's about time. Not that I don't like hanging round in ice cream shops and going out to dinner, but it's nice to get a little action in there too, Sam."

"I'll have to remember that," Sam breathed down at her, ignoring Dean's melodramatic _you've been dating?_ routine behind them.

He couldn't help grinning.

Gabriel just smiled, and interlocked their fingers.

"I killed all the demons and dismantled their little ritual, so we're done here," she said. "Let's go. I think it's time Team Free Will sat down and discussed Lucifer."

Sam felt the smile slide off his face.

It wasn't that he disagreed, but bringing Lucifer into the conversation was definitely a downer.

Gabriel squeezed his hand apologetically, and Sam gave her a rueful smile.

The archangel smiled wryly back, and snapped her fingers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

"Okay, boys," Gabriel announced. "So I've been thinking about the problem of what to do about my dick brother."

Dean arched an eyebrow.

"What are you planning?"

Gabriel gave a slightly bitter smile.

"I'm planning on doing something mind-bogglingly stupid, that's what I'm planning." She looked straight at Sam. "I'm going to give you my sword, and while I'm fighting him, you're going to sneak up and stab him from behind."

"_What?_" Sam stared at her. "You cannot be serious."

"This plan is full of risk," Castiel said, but looked considering.

"But – won't that put you in danger?" Dean asked, while Sam was still staring incredulously at the archangel.

Gabriel huffed a wry little laugh.

"Yeah. Guess I'm always going to make my last stand here."

She looked bitterly amused.

Sam felt like the floor was falling out from under him.

"But… you can't."

Gabriel just smiled at him: a real, sweet, gentle smile, eyes soft, and reached up to cup his face.

"Hey, if it gets you and your brother out of this alive and intact, Samsquatch, it's worth it." She nodded at Castiel. "Besides, I've got a brother in this too, you know. Hopefully this will get everyone off his back a bit."

"But you could get killed!" Sam blurted.

Gabriel looked at him for a moment. Her eyes were hooded.

"Sometimes you've just gotta roll the dice, kid. Sometimes, death happens. All you can do is be ready when it comes, and hope you've died for something worthy."

Her eyes were far way, and the acceptance in her voice, like she knew exactly what she was talking about, frightened Sam.

Forgetting their brothers, he reached out and hooked a hand behind her neck, pulling her in, and held her face in his hands.

Gabriel stared at him in some surprise.

"Don't die," Sam ordered, never breaking eye contact.

Gabriel huffed a laugh.

"That's not exactly something I can guarantee, Sam."

"Promise me," Sam demanded. "I don't care. Promise me anyway, Gabriel."

Gabriel gazed at him, her expression impenetrable.

"All right. _Quid pro quo_. I promise not to die, and you promise not to die, either," she conceded finally.

Sam let out a long breath.

"I promise," he vowed.

There was an uncomfortable cough, and Sam remembered that his brother and Castiel were still present.

"What?" Dean demanded, because Castiel was glaring at him. "I mean, they want to have a moment, fine, but the moment was over and as I recall, we've got an archangel to gank."

Gabriel winced.

"I get that you've got no reason to love him, Winchester, but mind trying to remember we're talking about my brother?"

She sounded pained.

To Sam's surprise, Dean looked momentarily guilty.

"Sorry."

So even Dean had some kind of tact. Who knew?

"So, how is this going to work?" Sam asked. "We can't just turn up and try to kill him."

"Thank you, Sam," Gabriel said. "I never would have worked that out."

Sam scowled at her.

Gabriel slumped slightly.

"I've been gone a long time," she said, and for a moment Sam didn't know what she was talking about. "Disguised myself as a Trickster god, disappeared off Heaven's radar – the moment I show up, Lucifer's gonna notice. We can use that to our advantage." She sighed, and straightened. "If I play at being the Trickster – _properly_ – and act like all I want is for things to be over, maybe whinge a bit about how everyone upstairs is a douche, pretend I'm so deep into the pagan thing that I've forgotten a few skills – well, I should be pretty convincing."

Gabriel's lip curled. Weirdly, it looked like the expression was aimed at herself.

Sam thought about that for a second.

Well, okay, she might be acting more like an angel _now_, but she'd acted a _lot_ like a Trickster when they'd first met her, so maybe her look of self-contempt made some kind of sense.

"You did what you had to," Sam told her, thinking that it was probably true, even if she didn't see things that way.

The archangel snorted.

"Balls. I had to do shit, Sam. I _ran_. I couldn't bear the way my brothers tore at each others throats, and I ran." Her tone was acidic, her expression dark.

"Sounds like you had reason," Dean commented. Gabriel glared at him.

"Why did you change your mind?" Castiel asked.

Gabriel's shoulders twitched – like a pair of great wings had flared, Sam decided: he was getting better at interpreting strange angelic shoulder mannerisms.

"Do I have to go into this?" she whined.

Castiel was unaffected.

"Yes."

"You are such a dick," his sister grumbled. "I… okay, look, fine, you nosy little bastards, it was _you_."

"What?" Dean wore a look of comical surprise.

"Come on, you know I stalked you a few times. Croft Hall, the Mystery Spot ring a bell?"

Actually, no, Sam _didn't_ know that she'd stalked them, but it sounded like something she'd do.

"Now, Dean can be a dick, and you, Sam, can be emo, but you didn't deserve the shit they were planning to lay on you."

Sam frowned.

Gabriel had said that with a completely straight and unblinking face, which probably meant that it was a lie cleverly disguised by something that was almost true.

"You're lying," he said flatly.

Gabriel's head swivelled.

"Excuse me?"

She sounded offended.

"I said, you're lying," Sam repeated calmly. "Okay, that stuff might be true, about thinking that we didn't deserve that, but that's not the real reason, or at least all of it."

He, Dean, and Castiel looked at Gabriel.

The archangel held out a moment, before her face crumpled.

"Oh, screw you," she said miserably. "You're gonna make me pull it all out, aren't you?"

She hunched a bit.

"Gabriel?" Sam prodded gently.

"I've done this before," she blurted wretchedly. "The apocalypse, I mean. Only I didn't get involved until it was pretty much hopeless and you two _dragged_ me into it kicking and screaming, and I ended up impaled on my own sword courtesy of my brother." She ran a hand over her face, and kept it there.

"W…what?" Sam breathed, stunned.

Castiel's eyes were wide.

"Then… Father…?" he asked reverently.

"Sent me back for round two? I guess so." When Gabriel removed her hand, her eyes were tired and sad, and filled with so much pain that something in Sam's chest wrenched. "I figured, if I was going to do it all again, might as well do it right this time."

"Were… were we…?" Sam started to ask.

Gabriel gave an undignified, faintly-amused snort.

"Hells no. I was like the bane of your life, goliath. You _hated_ my ass. And I was still in a male vessel, anyway."

Sam could remember the time when he had loathed the Trickster, back when Gabriel was a smug, insufferable guy with blondish-brown hair and a smirk calculated to drive you homicidal... but it seemed so long ago now and Gabriel was such an important part of his life, that it was almost impossible to imagine a reality where that was still the case.

"How'd it all end?" Dean asked grimly.

Gabriel gave him her most sarcastic look.

"I don't know. I was dead."

"Oh. Right."

Sam reached out for her hand and held it.

Gabriel's expression lightened a little, and she squeezed back.

"Anyway," she said, doing her best to sound casual, "now you know. Can we get back to defeating Lucifer, already?"

Castiel gave her a solemn, heartfelt stare.

Sam just held on tightly to her hand and didn't let go.

* * *

Lucifer was, of all places, in a small-town bakery when Gabriel found him.

He turned to face her as she walked in, an expression of calm, pleased surprise on his face as he spoke.

Sam was hiding across the street, covered in so many sigils that he was practically invisible to angelic eyes.

Dean had been pretty damn unhappy that he couldn't come along, but Gabriel had pointed out that the whole point was that Lucifer wouldn't realise that anyone but her was there, and if there was more than one other person then it was possible that he might detect them, despite the sigils.

As Sam watched, Gabriel approached Lucifer with a swagger in her step, and paused to say something with one hand on her hip, radiating snarky attitude.

Sam shifted a little where he stood, and tightened his grip on the sword that Gabriel had given him.

Apparently an angel's true sword was a manifestation of their Grace. Gabriel had explained patiently that actually, it wasn't _really_ a sword, no matter what it looked like; but the form of a sword was the most convenient shape that it could take when an angel inhabited a vessel. Sam had stared at the sword in his hand a bit uneasily at that: to him it had just looked like a really plain sword, maybe a little like a Roman gladius – not like he was holding a part of _Gabriel herself_ in his hand.

Across the street, as Lucifer and Gabriel's conversation unfolded, Gabriel ranted and waved her hands around, looking angry and accusing, while Lucifer regarded her with an expression that was clearly wounded.

Sam just waited for the signal, and tried not to freak out too much.

Whatever was going on, Gabriel and Lucifer's confrontation ended up spilling into the street as they left the bakery, Gabriel's voice shrill and petulant.

"Oh come _on_ Lucifer, like this isn't all _your fault!_"

People on the street sent the pair of archangels strange glances at Lucifer's name.

"Gabriel," Lucifer began, his voice low and displeased.

"No, no, _no_, don't '_Gabriel'_ me, brother! _You_ decided you had to rebel against Daddy and get yourself kicked out of Heaven, and then _everyone_ got dragged into it! Our brothers are killing each other and fighting all the time, and no one remembers that they love each other, and _I just want it to be over!_" Gabriel screamed at him. "I want it to _end_, Lucifer!"

People were actively crossing the street to avoid the pair, now. Gabriel sounded like a distraught child – like the hurt younger sibling she was – and worlds away from a near all-powerful archangel. For a start, people probably didn't imagine that archangels could sound so strident.

Sam was having trouble keeping composed. Remembering Gabriel's story – of how things had gone down the first time – and the look on her face when she'd talked about Lucifer and her brothers, he was pretty sure that Gabriel meant every word she said, on some level. The sheer _pain_ in her voice right now made his heart ache in sympathy.

Lucifer closed right in, trying to get through to Gabriel with his words.

"Gabriel, you know I never wanted this," he said quietly, in stark contrast to Gabriel's misery-filled yelling. "I have only ever tried to do what I believe is right."

"Oh, _fuck you, Lucifer!_" Gabriel cried, refusing to buy into it. "You _always_ believe you're right, and it doesn't matter who pays for it!" She threw her arms wide. "You've ruined everything, because of your eternal conviction that you can. Never. Be. _Wrong_. Here's a news flash: sometimes you are! And sometimes, it doesn't matter who's in the right and who's in the wrong, okay? People get screwed over every day, and you know what? They take it. They take it, and they move on, and they don't develop a fucking persecution-slash-superiority complex over it! You were the Morningstar, the Visionary, and you were special, but that didn't give you the right to do any of the things you've done. To any of us."  
At the mention of Lucifer's titles Sam began to cross the road, senses on high alert.

"Oh, _brother_," Lucifer said softly, looking sorrowful as he regarded Gabriel where she stood, chest heaving with emotion and hands clenched. "I never meant you to be hurt."

"Well I was," Gabriel said darkly, at a more normal volume. "And so was everyone else, _brother._"

As lightly and silently as possible Sam moved close to the fallen archangel's back, heart hammering, blade held at the ready.

Gabriel gave no sign that she could see him sneaking up on Lucifer, her eyes trained squarely on her elder sibling.

Sam crept close, and raised the sword.

"I love you, Lucifer, but you are a serious asshole."

Gabriel's eyes were sad.

And Sam slammed the sword home with all his strength.

Lucifer went stiff, and Sam wasn't at the right angle to see how he looked at Gabriel, but her expression turned heartbroken.

There was a brief blaze of white light, and then the body of Lucifer's vessel went lax and folded to the tarmac as the ashy shape of massive wings burnt itself into the ground.

The sword slipped free as he fell.

Sam looked down at the dead archangel at his feet, before looking back up at Gabriel.

Her expression was a mix of devastated and resigned as she gazed at her brother.

Sam had just saved the world, so he should have felt some kind of triumph, satisfaction, whatever.

What he felt was like he'd just killed the elder brother of one of the people he loved most of the world.

He offered Gabriel the sword silently, and she took it without a word, slipping it back to wherever it went when it wasn't manifested.

"I guess we should go," he tried, unable to find any kind of comment that seemed adequate.

"Yeah," Gabriel said, sombrely, and she didn't even bother to snap her fingers as she took them both far away from the scene.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title:** I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings

**Author**: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (aceofannwn on LJ)

**Pairings:** Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel

**Setting:** Set across season 4 & 5. AU.

**Summary:** After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

**Notes: **_So, finally, the last chapter! God, you would not believe th eamount of formatting, copying and pasting etc it took to get this story up... and that' just on ffnet. -sigh- Please review, if you like it!_

* * *

**I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings**

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

"So." Sam held Gabriel close, letting his chin rest on her head. She smelt like cotton candy. It was nice. "Lucifer is no longer a problem. The angels are going to leave us alone. All Dean and I have to worry about is hunting."

Sam tried to gather his nerve. He _knew_ Gabriel cared deeply about him, dammit. He had the burn on his ass to prove it.

"I'd like to bond with you, if you want me."

Sam's lap was suddenly empty.

From three feet away Gabriel gaped at him.

"You can't be serious!" Gabriel exclaimed. She looked, and sounded, entirely shocked.

That wasn't encouraging. Sam pressed on anyway.

"Why not?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

Gabriel gaped some more.

"You can't just – Sam, bonding is _forever_," she spluttered, looking so off-balance that part of Sam, the part that wasn't twisted into an giant earnest ball of hope and anxiety right now, wanted to laugh. "It's not something you can change your mind about, or take back ten years from now. An angelic bond lasts for all _eternity_."

"Gabriel." Sam spoke before she could get too wound up. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I love you, and I want to be with you, and that's not going to change," he said simply.

"Kiddo, if you have any doubts…" Gabriel said warily, drifting closer, and Sam could hear the longing in her voice.

Sam huffed in amused impatience, and reached out to grab her hands and tug her forward, back into his lap.

The archangel went willingly enough, and fixed him with an unblinking, gravely serious gaze.

The weight of its didn't bother him.

"I want this," Sam said honestly. "I want you. All of you, if you'll let me."

Gabriel stared into his eyes for what felt like a long time, her own shining gold; then she cupped Sam's face and leaned forward to kiss his forehead, and reached down to cover the angelic handprint.

The rushing, roaring Grace that Sam remembered surrounded him, obscuring everything but the feel of it, golden-bright and full of majesty and purpose. The light nudged at him, flaring love and reassurance as it sank through into his skin and wrapped around him with a sensation like the clear brass call of trumpets.

Sam didn't know if he'd remembered to breathe, but it didn't matter; all that mattered was the immense, incomprehensible, gloriously shining being that he could feel all around him.

Slowly the light dimmed, and receded, taking most of the amazing feeling with it, until Sam found himself staring into Gabriel's eyes, which were radiating white light.

As he watched that too faded, leaving the golden irises that seemed to appear whenever Gabriel's angelic emotions seemed to be particularly strong.

But he could still feel a shadow of her, glimmering beneath his breastbone, full of warmth and humour.

The archangel smiled at him, and Sam just sat and breathed in wonder.

Gabriel slid closer so that they were flush against each other and brought her mouth to his, and Sam drank her in like a man dying of thirst.

Laughing softly into his mouth, Gabriel snapped her fingers and took them someplace where they definitely wouldn't be disturbed.

* * *

"So, I bought a house," Gabriel said one day, out of the blue.

"You what?" Sam asked blankly.

"Well, you two are kinda getting a bit old to be roughing it all the time in motel rooms. I don't want you to die yet because you were tired and too slow: I'd have to go back to Heaven to be with you, and that would boring."

"So you bought a house?" Dean repeated.

"That was an excellent idea," Castiel said approvingly.

"Thanks, bro. I figure our significant others can commute every day by Archangel Air and come home to dinner and a decent bed and all that jazz, and I can sit around all day and watch cable while you practice your cooking."

Sam saw Dean's face contort in consternation at that idea: last time Castiel had tried to cook, he'd set the kitchen on fire, and once they'd put it out Dean had been forced to choke down whatever inedible concoction Castiel had achieved for fear of disappointing his angel.

Sam smirked a little at Dean's look of fear, and saw Gabriel grin at him, knowing exactly what was going through his mind.

"So, Heaven would be boring," Sam prompted, hoping for more information.

"What do you think?" Gabriel insisted. "I've got like a thousand years of paperwork piled up. I'm putting that shit off for as long as possible."

"Angels have paperwork?" Dean asked, looking amused.

"Gabriel was speaking metaphorically," Castiel explained. "She is referring to her responsibilities as the Messenger, the Arch-Herald, the Angel of Judgement, and her more general duties as one of the four archangels."

"Never mind that," Gabriel interrupted. "I bought a house, we're going to live in it. All of us. It'll be big and happy and disgustingly domestic. Okay?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

Sam knew how _he_ felt. He waited for Dean's answer.

"What the hell," Dean said finally.

* * *

Sam wasn't sure how a free evening without Dean and Cas had turned into dancing to cheesy music with Gabriel, but he was having fun.

"_I never thought that I could be so satisfied, every time I look in your angel eyes…_"

Gabriel had turned their room into a replica of an eighties disco and dressed herself in neon-green wayfarers, a shiny neon-pink jacket, and a tight neon-green mini-dress. Sam himself was now wearing a white suit and ridiculous white shoes, and wayfarers of his own. It was absurd and silly and Sam was having the time of his life.

"_I said I wasn't going to lose my head, but then pop goes my heart…"_

"This is a really cheesy song," he commented.

Gabriel laughed, giant hoop earrings dangling.

"It's a parody song," she admitted. "But it _sounds_ eighties, doesn't it?"

Sam grinned, and twirled her.

"Dean and Cas are totally on a date, aren't they?" he asked.

Gabriel grinned wickedly.

"Your brother is a closet romantic," she confided. "He and Castiel are seeing a movie, and then he's taking Castiel out for ice cream afterwards."

Gabriel's voice was too full of glee for that to be the whole story. Sam tried to work out what he was missing.

"What movie?"

Gabriel smirked, and he knew that he'd guessed right.

"You know that little cinema that shows all the cult movies, about twenty minutes drive away?"

Sam nodded. Gabriel sighed happily.

"They're showing _The Princess Bride_ tonight."

"Wait – so _Dean_ is taking _Cas_ to see _The Princess Bride_."

Sam stared at Gabriel.

She was snickering.

"Well, you know how baby bro is about relationship movies. He wanted to see a romance movie tonight, and Dean, well, he couldn't say no to him."

That – that was _fabulous_, and actually kind of sweet, and Sam was never, _ever_ letting Dean live it down.

"I was thinking," Gabriel continued, "that we could sprinkle their bed with rose petals and heart confetti, and if you _really_ feel evil, I could call up a cupid to add to the mood – assuming that you don't think a fat naked guy gushing over their love would ruin it."

Sam had to stop dancing, he was laughing so hard.

"Nothing's ever boring with you," he said finally, chuckling.

"That you can count on," Gabriel said, looking self-satisfied.

Sam just laughed, and continued dancing.

* * *

**FINITE!**


End file.
